If you were in purgatory, do you think you'd know it? That's kind of the point right? A place beyond where life repeats, too good and you're rewarded, too hard on you and you want to change. Days mirror your life with the same smiles and the same responsibilities, eternally working for an end so far in the future it's barely visible

It's only on the quiet nights when I truly feel the difference. Only in the dark hours do I know I can't be alive.

This building is a maze. And I but a wanderer.

It takes the cleaning team weeks to go from floor to floor at night, walking through dark corridors and thousands of office blocks. By the time we're finished the top floor, it's time to start over. Sometimes the process can take a while longer, though. Sometimes there are distractions. Sometimes someone may leave a light on.

I opened the door to the office, it was just like every other, plastered cream walls tearing at the corners and dying lights illuminating a few old monitors. In the corner. The place reeked of dust, you could hear the crawling of some kinds of bugs within the thin, rotting walls. In the corner, there was a kid.

"Oh, uhh, hello sir."

I grumbled a response and started dusting, plenty of parents get caught up with work and we've had our fair share of kids left behind after a day. I had no reason to believe this one was different.

"What's that on your face," The kid tried, an anxious smile on his face. "Just sit tight and let me clean, I'll be out soon," I replied, ignoring his gesture to the purple scar that ran across the left of my mouth. The job tends to take an arm and a leg sometimes. "Do I need to call your father?" I tied the knot on the grey back full of dust and lint. "Umm, no my father- he'll be here- uhh soon." he glanced up, but wouldn't meet my eye.

There was something off about this kid, he had skin like a ghost and vivid blue eyes that reflected in the unpolished windows. Nothing was inherently weird, kids are unruly and rugged creatures, but this one looked a little too dishevelled.

I shrugged and went to leave, opening the door to the next office, "Don't go in there," he jumped out of his seat, grabbing my arm. I shook him off and turned the knob, opening the space to a dark, untidy room filled with garbage. There were turned over desks, a pile of plastic food wrappers and a mouldy sleeping bag suspended by chairs. "Don’t tell anyone I'm here, they'll take me back," the kid blurted out, clearly panicked by my disgusted expression. He looked into my eyes, blue diamonds in his skull glittering as if he was about to tear up. This kid had seen something. I picked up my phone, dialled 911, but didn’t click enter. I sighed, closed the door and moved my fingers through the kids hair. "Just… don't stay too long. Inspections are next month and they'll move you." The kids eyes lit up, "thank you," He was so small in his chair, barely old enough to be in high school. "Here's some money, don't starve awhile," I grabbed a couple notes from my wallet and put them in his dry, flaky hand. "I'll be on the 4th floor for the rest of the week." "Thank you sir, I'll stay out of trouble," he beamed, but then his expression changed, a confused look taking over his face. "Sir?" "What?" "You said something about an inspection?" "Yeah the offices have to be checked every year for health and safety."

"But sir, nobody works here anymore. The building's been abandoned for years." He looked sure about this fact, saying it with conviction as his eyes beamed in the dark. "Yeah, whatever you say kid." I gave him a smirk and closed the door. I moved on to the rest of the floor. Later that night, I went to check on that office, but when I opened the door there was only a broom closet, tiny and empty, rusted pipes dripping water onto the floor. It was only then that I truly realized the place was falling apart. Tears in the walls let in wind that chilled the building, deep crimson light from the stars bleeding in momentarily, lighting up the broken windows and splitting wires. The truth is visible only on those quiet nights. I never saw the kid again.