The Apartment Which Knew - Too Much

No outstanding issues - or were there?

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Blah. Ordinary. Old, and nothing spectacular. So was the work.

And I was used to that.

The building was in working order. Nothing seemed wrong with the lifts or doors.

No malfunctioning doorknobs.

It was functioning, which passed for reassurance.

There seemed nothing urgent. People moved through it with regulated indifference.

It looked as though it could manage without me.

I didn’t receive the block in a typical handover. Most things were unexplained.

There were issues. Settled. But no one quite explained how. All anyone told me was that there was absolutely nothing to worry about. The complex was on the up and up.

Tenants went missing. Recorded as absent. Just scheduling matters.

I did my first round of the complex. Everything was in order. But not the same as looked after.

Repairs had been completed by my predecessor before I took the complex over. Carefully enough - to settle any arguments. Some areas were clean, but never used, as if purposely kept that way.

Oh, it was maintained. Functional. But not comfortable.

At least, not for the soul.

The tenants showed great gratitude for my work - as if I was continuing it for the other guy. I hadn't known him.

But when I asked who had done repairs before, they wouldn't say a word.

I assumed it was that other guy. And left it there.

Then, the calls. Too many of them.

Mould. From the same unit.

The mould appeared too often for coincidence to explain it. It had been gotten rid of - too many times.

Why the same date?

Someone had kept the books in order - too much in order.

The paperwork shouted "done." The building -silent.

My role had already been decided before I started work. Just janitor. Caretaker.

But my name wasn't there. The computer's records didn't show who had filled my role before. It was as if I had been just - slotted in.

Every task had been recorded as completed.

There was nothing urgent - at all. That was the gap.

Nothing written about it - just assigned.

Not concluded.

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I couldn’t put a finger on those calls — or the mould. So I did what any responsible janitor would do. I paid it a visit.

The unit was still unoccupied. The previous tenant had given it an airing — that was for sure. But the mould still appeared on the walls, in the exact spots it had earlier.

I wasn’t concerned. Vacant units were easy-peasy. There were no tenants who’d grouch at our presence.

So, I got to work. The records showed that all issues had been resolved. The words were nothing new.

But there was something — different.

About the date.

Repeated.

Too repeated. As though someone had just checked and updated the logs —

logging “repaired” without checking.

So, I logged it again — myself. In the same language, same terms.

Professional. Recorded.

Repaired.

I didn’t comment — that wasn’t for me to do.

I just waited for instructions — that never came when they should have.

There were no further questions. No clarification.

No one asked that any action be taken.

It was just logged in the system — marked for monitoring.

Nothing for me to be concerned about.So I cleaned the unit once again. I adjusted the ventilation, just to keep the air flowing.

But viewings were postponed.

It was simpler and less costly to keep the apartment empty.

No problems — nothing needed coordinating.

So the issue remained contained - not a worry.

It didn't disrupt life.

There was no smell from the apartment. No one claimed it.

So no conclusion was required. There was no need to put anything on record.

They let the unit remain empty.

I was to do my job.

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I had to go back to the apartment. Check on it.

They didn’t tell me to.

I passed by it again. It was easier to go over it myself.

But there was no need to go into it. I didn’t log it.

Somehow the air felt - more dense. it didn't circulate as before. The walls had shadows on them. The ventilation - louder.

Breathing. Constant humming.

It felt enclosed.

I touched the mould with my gloves. It stained them.

Deeper than yesterday. I had to replace them.

The debris on my sleeve. The clinging dampness

That stayed.

But minor.

They scheduled a viewing for the next day. It was brief - no questions. But the prospective tenant left, fast. They didn't mention anything. But didn't return, or follow up.

The unit remained- available.

I was tired. I didn’t see the need to really clean it. I left the corners of the floor untouched. Left it for the next day — no need to attend to it right now. It could hold. I had other things to do.

So the unit remained stable. The apartment block stayed as it was.

Everything as it was. Under control.

No need to bother revisiting. Or cleaning.

I could leave it alone.

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Then, hairline cracks. Thin. Barely noticeable. Stretching across the walls.

The paint had begun to swell, creating faint damp lines along the skirting.

The paint cracked and blistered.

The corridor felt cool.

But they decided that it was within acceptable limits. No direction.

A tenant mentioned the air in the corridor being damp. Bubbles along the door frame.

I recorded it as under monitoring.

Aware of the situation. Being addressed.

No damage.

A second person arranged to view the apartment — and cancelled.

So I went to clean it. Seasonal cleaning. Perhaps that would help.

I stepped into the unit and coughed.

My hands swelled. My gloves didn’t help.

The smell still clung.

But it was temporary. Nothing serious.

I sat in front of the computer, the log files in front of me.

To escalate — or not.

I decided to record the damage — but it didn’t need attention.

Just observation.

A pending review. No need to bother them.

I left it and went about my business.

Someone finally rented it. An elderly lady, looking for a quiet complex.

Ours was it.

She slipped slightly on the mouldy tile.

Filed a complaint.

A third viewing was permanently cancelled.

The damage would surface in time.

It always does.

But it was contained — for now.

The log entry surfaced - again.

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From the Apartment Which Knew microfiction series by Michelle Liew Tsui-Lin. Compiled for Vocal's A System That Isn't Working Challenge.