The Missing Floor - Chapter 7: The Thing the Building Learned to Hold

I couldn’t understand its full shape at once. My mind kept breaking it into parts—folds, bulges, seams that opened and closed in slow intervals. It wasn’t contained by a single chamber but by the building itself, which wrapped around it like a clenched fist.

Steel supports sank into it and through it, disappearing into concrete that had been poured again and again, layer over layer, as if builders had panicked and kept adding material whenever it moved.

It breathed.

Each inhale caused the surrounding beams to tighten. Each exhale made the entire floor contract. The building wasn’t passive—it was responding, actively resisting expansion.

Then it became aware of me.

The nearest fold shifted. A rupture opened slightly, revealing slick movement beneath. It didn’t roar or lash out.

It listened.

The vibration under my feet changed, syncing with my pulse.

Somewhere above me, the building groaned in warning.

Source: Some or all of the content was generated using an AI language model