The dinner rush had finally died down, and Dakkota could still feel the sticky echo of fryer oil on her skin as she clocked out of her shift. It was nearly midnight. She’d smiled and joked her way through six hours of wings and endless “game on the big screen” chatter, and all she wanted now was silence.

The drive home was quiet—just the hum of her old Honda and the soft glow of passing streetlights. Her apartment complex sat at the edge of town, a row of identical beige buildings that always felt a little too still at night.

She parked, gathered her tips into her purse, and trudged up the stairs.

When she unlocked the door, something felt… *off*.
晚餐高峰终于过去，达科塔下班打卡时，皮肤上还残留着油炸食品的油腻感。快到午夜了。六个小时里，她一直面带微笑，和同事们聊着“大屏幕上的比赛”，没完没了，现在她只想安静一会儿。

回家的路上很安静——只有老旧本田车的嗡嗡声和路灯柔和的光芒。她的公寓楼位于小镇边缘，一排米色的建筑，夜晚总是显得格外静谧。

她停好车，把小费放进钱包，然后拖着脚步走上楼梯。

打开门锁的那一刻，她感觉……有点不对劲。