The apartment was old and decrepit, but it fit my current financial situation. It was a perfectly nondescript property, save for the “Do Not Feed the Attic” sign taped to the wall below the attic entrance.
The landlord had a thick accent from some place I could not recognize, so I assumed the sign was somehow lost in translation. It had to be.
That first night, though, I heard a growl from above, much like the rumbling of an empty stomach. Call me curious, but I decided then that the dead mouse in the trap would head upstairs tomorrow morning.
Don’t go!!