Victoria P.O.V
Antoni holds her hand as they walk across the street to the old corner building. It’s four stories high with wrought metal fire escapes and dead vines wrapping around the dark red brick. A couple of the windows appear to be cracked, thick tape sticking to the inside so the glass doesn’t fall off.
“I can see why your family got a new office,” Victoria mutters to Antoni while walking up the few cracked stone steps.
Antoni smiles warily and pulls open the black wooden door, stepping to the side so Victoria can walk through first. The smell hits her instantly, damp mold and stale blood invading her nostrils and making her cough. There is a grand staircase directly to the left of the door, the dark wooden handrail warped in some places, most likely by water damage based on the tinkling of water droplets in the room.