Excerpt:

I was walking out towards the door on the first floor when there was a tap on my shoulder. It’s weird because usually no one’s in the building at the same time as us—well, no one wants to be there anyway. So it’s strange in the least that I’m approached by some stranger. (The old ones in the antiques club don’t tap my shoulder—they just hobble around and call my name.)

Now here’s where it gets creepy.

"So how have you been, Mack?" Just like that. As if this guy was his best friend he’d met at a café or something.

I turned and was surprised to see a face I hadn’t seen in ages, almost literally. It was George, a man with enough stupidity to not notice my immediate annoyed expression. He had always been the Curly of our Stooge trio back in high school. I hadn't seen him since, and frankly I'd forgotten about his entire existence until he addressed me.

"What? Fine," I said. "Just dandy these days. What are you doing here?"

"That's good." He ignored my question, and apparently he still couldn't read the sarcasm in my voice. "Still in the business?"

"What business?"

"You know," George said, making an odd gesture I did not recognize. At my blank face, he was shocked. "You aren't in it?"

"In what? I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh. I was sure I'd heard... well, never mind."

George was not making any sense, and I dared not to be near him any longer. I of all people knew how clingy and irritating he could be.

"Let's walk outside," he suggested. "You're turning right, aren't you? I’ll go with you to Market Street."

I stared at him. "How did you know that?"

"Eh, no reason," he said, but there was an odd gleam in his eyes.

We reached the door. I pushed against it, expecting it to swing open easily, but nothing gave way. I rattled the handle, but it seemed securely locked.

"Must be locked," George said, not sounding dismayed at all.

I risked looking back at him and saw an expression I'd never seen before on his face. It was some sort of demented amusement; eyes squinted and laughing, smile wide and bland. It made me furious.

I grabbed his necktie. "What'd you do?"

"Me?" asked George innocently. "Nothing at all. Absolutely nothing. You saw me; I've been standing by you this whole time. And I was also in the meeting you were in just now."

"You—no you weren't. I would have remembered."

"I was right behind you, Mack," George said quietly with his same huge, stretched smile.

It was creeping me out.

"Shut up," I said, and rattled the door's handle again as hard as I could. I was so merciless that the handle might have broken out of the door itself, but it was useless. The door remained closed.

I looked at George. He had the same infuriating expression on, as if I was his plaything or something. "George, you –”

A lady screamed.

I turned back to the door and stared as a massive balcony came crashing down right in front of the door, literally three feet away from my face. Pieces of concrete flew towards the door and little spider webs cracked all over the glass. Dust flew everywhere, clouding our entire view of the outside.

At that moment, the door swung open.

I stared at George, who shrugged. "Divine intervention, perhaps?" he said, passing me and walking outside as if nothing had happened.

I felt a chill up my back and it wasn't from the cold.