That building has been closed all my life.
There were rumours that there was once an animation studio inside. Or they made props, or special effects, something like that. The windows have crappy MDF board stuck across them, graffitied with swear words, tags, and names of lovers. Constant puddles of water on the ground are always stagnant from last year’s autumn leaves. The fence gets rustier every year, the keep out signs faded and sadder.
I walked past this wreck every day on the way to school, both secondary and primary. On my way to my first job interview. That brutalist, post-war structure, already lost and without a purpose.
You have to remember, before I was even born, this building had been empty for years. But last week, I glanced up at the building, and I am sure that at one of the top windows, one of the few not boarded up, was a man in a mouse mask. The cardboard veil was yellow, with wire whiskers, and a painted on nose and eyes. The man was bald, with ears that stuck out like they had been welded on. He stared down at me for a few seconds, and was gone.
This will be the naughtiest thing I have ever done. But I have to check, and see if anyone is there.
Next week is perfect. The week after Christmas, and the chances of security, or even someone going past walking their dog, are minimal.
Next week, and everything changes.