The sounds of a piano echoed through the ghostly halls of the old hotel. No one was there to tap away at the keys. No soul had exited the gift shop in ages. No sheets in the laundry room, and those left on the beds were a shade of dust from years of non use. The pool had evaporated and its tiles cracked in weird angles. Eighty two floors of silence. The trees in the lobby reached for the light in broken windows and birds nested, leaving droppings over the marble floors. Who was the last person to check in? Who was the last human to check out? Did the manager turn off the lights or just flee into the mass panic on the streets, another casualty to the end? The furnace hissed in protest occasionally sending steam up through the pipes rattling the floors like a dance. A cavern of memories, alone until the foundation gives way to the dirt below, like everything else left behind.