[crow]

It all started with a song.

Ciri's decision to move to a new apartment on account of a creative slump was met with skepticism by most of those who knew him. His choice of a newly renovated building in a run-down part of town went over even less well. Still, once he got an idea into his head, it was pretty much impossible to talk him out of it, so on a bright clear Saturday morning he marched up the stairs to his second-floor lot with a suitcase of clothes and toiletries. The truck came not long after.

Having been told repeatedly that he would regret his decision only made Ciri more determined to enjoy his new home. The view was... well, there was nothing that could be done about that one, but the apartment itself was nice. It was roomier than just about any other place you could get in the city for this kind of price, and it was new, which he liked. Some people had a healthy appreciation for old things, but Ciri didn't care for anything that he couldn't attach personal nostalgia to. Meanwhile, no one had made any dents in the walls yet, or applied an unflattering wallpaper that he would have to paint over. White walls were a bit bland, but he'd live.

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The nicest thing about it was how close it was to work. The city went from grody to just-barely-respectable to business headquarters central within a reasonable walking distance. Walking to work was something else his friends generally disapproved of, but Ciri had tried it now that it was an option, and found that he liked it better. At such a short distance, getting into the car and out again felt cumbersome, and there were birds that sang in the morning even in the run-down part of town.

It was while he was walking to work one day that he first heard it: the sound of a person singing too.

There was an old warehouse--- he assumed it was a warehouse--- on an especially abandoned-looking block adjacent to his own apartment complex. He'd asked the landlady about it when he first moved in, but the woman had told him it was basically harmless. Nothing strange about its history, and technically still owned by a rich man who lived halfway across the country, but no one had used it in years. It left you alone as long as you left it alone, though there were rumors that something had taken up in there--- anything from a few rats to a bear to a whole hideous family of raccoons, depending on who you asked. His personal favorite theory was that it was an especially large spider, this particular story being perpetuated by a man down the hall who wrote comics for a living.

No one ever said it might be a person though.

[crow]

Ciri paused, only half-believing what he had just heard, and listened hard for the sound again. Just as he was about to dismiss it as a figment of his imagination, he heard it a second time. Yes, that was definitely a female voice. He couldn't place the tune, but it sounded soft, a little sad. And as far as he could tell, it was coming from the factory.

He searched the building for any signs of the singer. There was no one outside, and the windows were too dark with grime for him to make out anything inside. He took half a step towards it, thinking to investigate further, but just then his phone started buzzing in his pocket. Probably someone from the project team again, he thought; the warehouse would have to wait.

On the way home, he scanned the old building for lights. There weren't any. Whoever had been there had either moved on or was living in the dark, apparently. Hmm.

[crow]

Much as his curiosity ate at him, he didn't really have time to visit the place until a couple of days later. There was a new game in development, and at the moment it seemed like everyone and their grandmothers wanted his input, so Ciri was kept busy answering emails and doing video conferences and reviewing concepts. This kind of thing made him half wish he was still doing things on the indie scene, when he had been able to do everything personally.

In lulls between work, he usually played games, but today he'd be going out for a change. See, this move was already doing him some good! If only his mother could see him now, she'd laugh!

Approaching the warehouse, he wasn't sure what to expect. It looked the way it always did though, big and rusted and dirty. The area around it was starting to be taken over by the greenery, with a particularly determined rash of ivy spreading up the southern wall. He had only ever seen it on his way to work though, and there were interesting things to discover now that he was seeing it from different angles.

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For one, there was a beautiful graffiti mural on another wall. It took him completely by surprise when he came upon it. Graffiti wasn't unusual, but the mural was done in an elegant style, almost like a painting. In it, a girl wandered through a fairy-tale world, occupied by all kinds of strange creatures. Everything was warm and atmospheric, and the girl seemed to be taking in everything around her with wonder.

It felt completely at odds with his surroundings, but that was part of the charm. Ciri loved it. He took out his phone and snapped a picture, with a memo to himself to ask around later to see if anyone knew the artist.

It took him a while to find the door. It was encircled by an enterprising bit of bramble. If someone was squatting here, he wondered if they had another way in. It had occurred to him while he was searching that the potential resident might not take well to him just barging in, so he raised his hand and knocked first. There was no response. He knocked again, this time adding, “Hey neighbor! I just moved in next door!” Technically, this was the truth. “Anyone home?”

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If there was, they weren't answering. He waited around for a good fifteen minutes before finally giving it up. It was a little disappointing. He'd been hoping to find more to do, but he supposed that was that. The mural had been a nice find, anyway.

He didn't want to go home just yet. Ciri ended up wandering his way over to a big-box store in the neighborhood. True to form, his steps took him straight to the snacks section even though he had just been ambling with no goal in mind. By the time he got out of those aisles, he had picked up four boxes of cookies, two packs of gummies and a chocolate bar. He considered his choices for a minute, ditched one of the cookie packs and the chocolate, and kept the rest. Hey, he earned his money. He kept in good shape. He'd eat what he wanted.

He lingered in the appliances section, trying out gadgets and wondering how they'd look in his home, but none of them struck his fancy enough to take home. It was fun seeing the kinds of things people came up with though. He toyed with a few lights, then chanced upon one that was solar-powered. All of a sudden, he remembered the warehouse again, and how the windows had been dark even at night.

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He took three of the lights with him, one big and two small. It felt like a silly thing to do, since he hadn't actually found anyone there, but it made him feel better. It wasn't as if this was the first time he'd done something useless either, and he had money enough to burn. He might find a use for them himself. That was what he told himself as he paid for them, though in reality he knew full well where they were going to go.

The next day, he left ten minutes early for work and stopped at the warehouse door along the way. Rapping smartly on the door, he said, “Here's a housewarming gift from me to you. I hope you like it!” He left the lights, wrapped up in paper with a cute animal print, right by the door and walked away, though he ruined the effect for himself by looking furtively back every few steps until he was finally out of sight of the building.

On the way home, he couldn't resist coming back to check again.

The packages were gone.

Hmm.

[crow]

Someone was visiting the warehouse. Never inside, of course, for which she was thankful, but in many ways that baffled her even more. She didn't know what she had done to give away her presence, or how much he knew--- and it was a he. She had heard his voice at the door calling out to her, and had frozen where she was and stayed like that for hours. She had listened to his footsteps as he walked away, but still, she hadn't dared to move for a good long time.

The visitor worried the rats. People always did. It had taken them a while even to get used to her, but she left them alone, and after a while they had realized that she didn't mean them any harm. Now they were friends. She had always been told that rats were dirty things, but she had watched them, and it wasn't true; and anyway it wasn't as if she could catch anything from them even if they were.

[crow]

After his second visit, greatly daring, she climbed up on an old table and looked out from one of the small high windows to see if anyone had laid out traps. There weren't any. What she did see was a package wrapped in bright patterned paper, tied up in a pretty red ribbon. A housewarming gift, he'd said. Did he mean to leave it for her?

She debated what to do about it. She could just leave it there. She would have liked to just leave it there. She didn't want anything to do with this person, whoever he was. Taking the gift he had left her was as sure a sign as anything that she was there, that she had noticed him, maybe even welcomed his visits, none of which were messages she wanted to send. But there was also the chance that a vagabond might happen upon it if she didn't take it, and then they would start coming around again too. In the past, they had been more of a problem, turning up every so often and trying to break into the warehouse for shelter. There hadn't been any for a while, but she didn't want to encourage them to come around again, and if they took the gifts, her visitor might attribute it to her anyway.

Ultimately, she settled for the lesser of two evils. Waiting until she was absolutely certain that no one was around, she went out--- not by the door, but from a well-hidden hole in the brambles. The thorns scraped her as she went by, but it didn't bother her any.

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She crept to the door where the visitor had left his gift, grabbed it, and crept back along the wall until she was back inside. Tucked against a pile of old furniture, she studied the package. The ceiling had crumbled away enough to let in a small patch of sunlight. She had worried over it when it had first appeared, but soon realized that no one was likely to go up there except for the odd bird. On sunny days, she liked to sit in it. She had other ways to charge her batteries, but something about sunlight made her happy.

A few of the rats scurried up to her, studying the package themselves. She smiled indulgently at them. “You think it's food, don't you?” she said. “Well, maybe it is.” She laughed a little. A whole lot of good it would do her if it was, but the rats would like it. She tugged carefully on one end of the ribbon until it came undone, then carefully peeled away the bits of tape holding down the wrapping paper. The one who had left it must have been skilled with his hands. The wrapping was neat and tidy. She opened the box beneath the paper to find three lights, one large and two small, along with a small card.

Picking up the card, she inspected it. There was a drawing of two rabbits, one presenting a gift and the other looking pleased to receive it. Hey there, neighbor! it read. I noticed your house was a little dark. I hope these help!

[crow]

“Is... Is that supposed to be me?” she said, looking at the picture. She wasn't sure what to make of any of it. She hadn't been expecting a visitor, much less a gift from someone who had never even met her. It was baffling.

... Still, it wasn't as if he had done anything bad. If he really did mean to wish her well and be friends, then she felt almost guilty for having to disappoint him. She'd be lying if she said there wasn't a part of her that wasn't tempted to let him in, but what would happen if she did? He'd take one look at her and run away.

She had to stay here. She had to wait. If they came back for her, maybe something could be done, she could be fixed, and everything would go back to normal. She liked that idea. What she liked less was the possibility that had been plaguing her mind for years, that they had abandoned her for good. Forgotten about her, even. That she'd be left to rot here until she finally broke down.

[crow]

She stared at the box of lights in her hands and sighed. A curious rat climbed up in her lap to look into the box, sniffing hopefully at her hands. It wasn't food, but the rat climbed into the box anyway, scrambling over the hard plastic packaging. She smiled despite herself. “Are you having fun?” The rat looked up at the sound of her voice, then resumed his exploration of her present. “I guess it's good for something after all. Here, you can have the box.” She scooped the rat up along with the lights and deposited them both on the ground, setting the box down next to them.

Given the choice, the rat scurried over to the box, rising up on his hind legs and tipping it over. Another rat scrambled out from the shadows to join it in investigating, and soon more had gathered. Watching them, she smiled. That was right, she wasn't alone or friendless. She had these guys. They didn't know enough to be afraid or disgusted by her, and that was enough. That had to be enough.

[crow]

Despite her initial reluctance, she and the visitor fell into a sort of pattern over the coming weeks, with him coming by and talking at the door for a while, sometimes just a cursory greeting and sometimes a longer anecdote. Something fun at his workplace, or the time he had found a stray cat near some bushes, or how the water pipe had been backed up in his apartment. Sometimes he would leave things--- notes, gifts, flowers. And she... would wait.

The man--- Ciri, said the notes--- had a pleasant, cheerful voice and his stories were entertaining. She found herself almost looking forward to his visits now. She still didn't do anything like make a reply, verbal or written, but it was harmless to listen, wasn't it? He'd get tired of this sooner or later and stop coming around anymore; until then she was going to savor this as much as she could. After he had gone, she replayed the stories over and over in her head, committing each to memory, so when he was long gone they would still be here with her.

[crow]

Ciri was running out of things to talk about.

Crazy, right? That's what he thought too. Anyone who knew him would have thought that, really. He was usually such a chatterbox that the trouble was finding someone to listen, not talking to them. Or at them, as some might say. And normally he'd have plenty to talk about, but there were several problems with his current situation.

First of all, he didn't actually know if he was talking to anyone in there. He had been pretty sure at first that there was someone. He was sure he had heard someone singing that day, and every time he left something, he'd come back the next day to find that it had disappeared, and that had to mean something. Still, there was never any reply when he went to the warehouse for visits, and he was starting to suspect that it might simply be a homeless person or even an unscrupulous busybody coming around to collect what he had left. There might be no one in the warehouse after all, and it could have been that he was just wasting his time.

[crow]

He could have just stopped, of course, but he wasn't quite convinced just yet. And, silly as it was, it had become something for him to look forward to. He'd get excited about the prospect of shopping or going someplace, thinking of what he could take back to the girl--- or the old woman, who knew?--- at the abandoned warehouse. When he was there, he was just a guy with too much free time on his hands, talking at a door.

Lately, he'd been needing a good excuse for a break too, which brings him to his second problem: he was just working too much. There wasn't anything interesting to talk about happening in his life right now, and Ciri would rather eat his own shirt than disappoint a waiting audience. He could have talked design jargon, but he didn't think that was very appealing to anyone outside the industry, and he really doubted she, whoever she was, was part of his industry.

“Ciri.” Someone called him, and Ciri snapped back to himself. Chen was leaning over to peer at his screen, his lips pressed into a thin line as he scanned it. “Distracted?” he asked, arching one eyebrow.