Riya Mukherjee knew something was wrong the moment the landlord smiled.
Not a normal smile. Not a polite, "welcome to your new home" smile. No—this was the kind of smile that said you won't be getting your security deposit back, or possibly your soul.
"Flat 13B," Mr. Dutta said, sliding the keys across the table. "Very peaceful."
Riya frowned. "Then why is it so cheap?"
Mr. Dutta paused.
"That," he said, "depends on your definition of peaceful."
Riya should have left.
Instead, she signed.