My Penthouse Vanished Into Thin Air

The day after I closed on my condo, it vanished.

Id spent ten years surviving on budget meals and packed lunches, squeezing onto overcrowded public transit every morning, all to save up the sixty thousand dollars for the down payment.

Finally, Id secured a small corner unit, 1801, on the top floor of the Sycamores complex, right near my office.

But when I got home from work, the entire building was seventeen stories high. The eighteenth floor was simply gone.

My condo was gone. I was completely unmoored.

I chased down the seller, Mrs. Fion, and my realtor, Mark Jensen.

They both swore they had never met me.

I went to the County Recorders office, then the police.

Everyone looked at me like I was insane.

They showed me the building plans: all units in the Sycamores topped out at seventeen floors. The eighteenth floor had never existed.

But I knew what I had bought! I had walked the unit!

I searched. I argued. I caused a scene.

The diagnosis was immediate: "She thinks she bought a house in a dream. What's next, a house that sprouts legs and runs away?"

My escalating public meltdowns resulted in multiple involuntary trips to the psychiatric ward.

Each time, I managed to escape and went right back to raising hell. I couldn't stop. That down payment represented a decade of my life, a decade of self-denial.

To control me, the hospital staff started with medication, then moved to electroshock therapyall to make me forget the condo.

The last time they caught me, I was being transported back to the ward. I spotted a brief opening when the guard looked away, flung myself out of the moving van, and hit the pavement.

I woke up back in the realtors office, the day I signed the contract.

I pressed my heel into the wooden floorboards, looking around the familiar space with a sense of confused dread.

This was Unit 1801. This was where we had signed the papers in my past life.

And yet, who could have foreseen that the entire eighteenth floor would inexplicably disappear the very next day?

Mark Jensen, my realtor, started to prompt me. Jenna, if everything looks good, we should wrap this up. Ive got a couple of other clients waiting to tour this afternoon.

I tried to sound casual. Sorry, I just need to check the exterior details and the common areas one last time.

I rushed out to the hallway and saw the large, clear number 18 plastered on the wall.

It was here. This was the eighteenth floor.

I hit the elevator button. It arrived quickly. The digital display above the doors clearly read 18.

Ding. The doors opened. I stepped inside, frantically searching.

Last time, after the floor vanished, I had ridden this same elevator repeatedly, and the 18 button had been completely missing.

But there it was now, clearly labeled. I pressed 1. I had to figure out what was happening before I lost everything again.

As the doors started to slide shut, Mark rushed up, yelling, Jenna, are you buying this place or not? You know that three-thousand-five-hundred-dollar deposit is non-refundable!

Three thousand, five hundred dollars! That was three months of rent and savings for me. I couldnt just walk away. I had to find the glitch immediately.

I made it to the first floor without incident. Then, I rode back up to 17.

I got off at 17, found the emergency exit, and climbed the last flight of stairs to 18.

Still nothing. The eighteenth floor was sitting right where it should be.

Mark and Mrs. Charlotte Fion, the seller, were waiting for me by the elevator bank.

Mrs. Fion smiled warmly when she saw me emerge from the fire escape. A first-time buyer, you should absolutely check out the safety features and the amenities. But I promise you, dear, this building is top-notch.

I studied Mrs. Fion. She seemed kind. Shed even knocked ten thousand dollars off the price to make her moving deadline. She looked nothing like a fraudster.

But when I went looking for her in my past life, she had looked me straight in the eye and said shed never seen me. And she didn't seem to be acting then, either.

Mark Jensen was one of the firms top producers; he didnt need my measly down payment. He also claimed not to know me after the disappearance.

Could this be something supernatural?

Jenna, if you back out, I return the fifty-six thousand five hundred, but the three-thousand-five-hundred-dollar deposit is lost. Marks voice broke through my daze.

Maybe the whole thing was a nightmare. A house can't just up and leave.

Mrs. Fion was desperate to move abroad to be with her daughter for the birth of her grandchild, which was why I was getting the deal of the century. The unit, the location, the fixturesit was all perfect. I couldn't throw away three thousand five hundred dollars over a bad dream.

I bit the bullet, pulling out my phone. This is a huge milestone for me. Do you mind if we take a quick video, just a couple of seconds, for my social media? For the memory?

If the condo vanished again, I needed ironclad proof that Mrs. Fion and Mark had sold it to me.

If they were con artists, theyd panic.

Mrs. Fion readily agreed. Oh, I love that! My daughter is the same way. A pretty young woman like you should absolutely document this! She smiled at the camera. Mark, too, cooperated patiently, showing no signs of guilt.

This made no sense.

Still, a video was indisputable evidence. If the condo disappeared, Id have no problem getting my money back.

I signed the contract with a flourish.

After seeing Mrs. Fion and Mark off, I spent the next hour filming every inch of the condo. I refused to let history repeat itself.

Ring.

It was my current landlord.

Hello, Leah? Are you renewing the lease for the next quarter?

Could I possibly rent for just one more month? In my past life, Id immediately given notice. When the condo disappeared, I was left homeless. A month would give me time to ensure the new place was solid. Plus, I only had enough cash left over for one extra months rent.

Absolutely not! I have people lined up to view it right now. Take the next quarter or get out!

I sighed. Okay, then Im out.

Then get back here and pack your bags now! the landlord roared, slamming down the phone.

I took one last, lingering look at my dream condo before heading back to my rental to collect my belongings.

As I opened the door to leave, I bumped into my next-door neighbor arriving home.

Last time, Id signed the contract and rushed off, so this was technically my first time seeing him.

He was an older gentleman, wearing sharp glasseshe looked like a retired professor.

I offered a friendly greeting. He nodded politely and opened his door. For a split second, I saw a large Golden Retriever inside.

I walked down the stairs, counting the floors again. Eighteen. Definitely eighteen.

My life was so sparse, ten years of saving meant I could fit all my possessions into a single suitcase. I pulled it behind me, walking toward my new home, bathed in the glow of the setting sun.

Please, please, please, I prayed. Don't vanish this time.

But as I reached the complex, I froze.

Every building was visibly shorter. My eighteenth floor was gone.

I immediately called Mark.

What? You said the condo you just bought disappeared?

Maam, youve got to be joking. This is reinforced concrete and steel, not a pop-up tent! A whole floor ran off? Are you sure youre at the right complex?

How could I be at the wrong complex? I had walked these grounds hundreds of times in my previous life, desperately searching for the missing floor. I could find this place blindfolded!

Look, Im with a client right now. Ill call you back after five. Mark hung up.

I was frantic. I had to confront Mrs. Fion.

I stationed myself outside the local grocery store, knowing it was her usual route home. Soon enough, she appeared, carrying a bag of fresh produce.

Mrs. Fion, do you remember me?

She paused, looking closely. Then, a puzzled look crossed her face. She shook her head. Im sorry, dear. Are you one of my daughters friends?

I felt the blood drain from my face. We had just signed papers this morning!

I grabbed her arm. Stop playing games! Give me back my sixty thousand dollars!

Mrs. Fions eyes widened in terror. Help! Somebody, please! Im being robbed!

People rushed over from all directions.

Did you see that girl? Shes got some nerve, trying to mug an elderly woman in broad daylight!

Call the police! Get her arrested!

First the house, then the robbery accusation. I was consumed by a blinding rage.

I pulled out my phone and played the video for the crowd. Look! This morning, she and her realtor sold me Unit 1801! Now the condo is gone, and she says she doesnt know me!

Mrs. Fion was still shaking her head and denying everything, swearing she didn't know me, calling me a thief.

The crowd was utterly confused. The woman in the video was clearly Mrs. Fion.

Nobody leaves! Well wait for the police and let them sort this out! I insisted.

Yeah, wait for the police!

I had the video. I had the contract. Let them try and dismiss me this time.

A patrol car arrived shortly. The crowd explained the bizarre situation to the officers.

A condo bought in the morning that vanishes by afternoon? The officers were dumbfounded.

I handed over my phone: the video, the pictures of the interior.

One officer looked back and forth between Mrs. Fion and the video. Maam, this woman certainly looks identical to you. And the unit in the video appears to be real.

Mrs. Fion shook her head wildly. I was playing Mahjong with friends all morning! They can vouch for me!

Unable to resolve the chaos, the police brought us all back to the station: me, Mrs. Fion, and even Mark Jensen, who was forced to come in for questioning.

Seeing Mark, I exploded. Hes the realtor! He sold me the unit!

Mark stared at me with an expression of shock and bewilderment.

Wait, youre the crazy lady who called and said her apartment vanished? Who are you? Ive never seen you before! Get this lunatic away from me!

Two officers had to physically restrain me.

Jenna, please calm down, the officer said. You claim you bought a condo from them. Do you have proof?

I nodded, pulling the sales contract and the realtors agreement from my suitcase.

I jabbed my finger at the unit number. Here! Unit 1801! We signed this contract right there!

The officer slammed the contract down in front of Mark. Its a valid contract with your firms seal. Now tell me you dont know her!

Mark scrutinized the papers. The contract is legitimate, and thats our company seal. But I absolutely did not sign this. I had several client meetings this morning, and they can confirm my schedule.

Mrs. Fion added, The handwriting looks like mine, but I haven't owned a condo at the Sycamores in years! My Mahjong group can swear I was nowhere near a contract signing today.

The officers who went out to investigate soon returned with their findings.

Theyre not lying. Both have multiple alibis.

I felt the panic rise. How? Then what about my condo? Thats sixty thousand dollars!

The police took my phone, saying they needed to verify the videos source and reliability.

Mark spoke up immediately. Don't just look at us! Look at her! What if her video is deepfaked or AI-generated? Shes clearly unstablea condo running away? Please, Officer, she needs a psychiatric evaluation. The Sycamores only has seventeen floors. Im telling you, shes mentally ill!

Just then, the officer who visited the complex returned.

Jenna, we visited the Sycamores. The tallest building is seventeen stories. We pulled the original blueprintsthey only show seventeen stories.

I shot up from my seat. Impossible! I was in 1801 this morning! I climbed the stairs from the seventeenth floor! It was there!

The officer who had been sympathetic suddenly regarded me as a threat. He yelled, Jenna! Get back in your seat! Calm down!

We interviewed the residents! Everyone confirms the buildings only have seventeen stories. There is no eighteenth floor! Weve called for a specialist from the psychiatric center. Theyll be here shortly to assess you.

Tears streamed down my face. My house was gone, and I was going to be locked up again. Had the universe doomed me to the same fate?

That sixty thousand dollars was ten years of my life! Ten years of eating canned soup and scraping by! I finally bought my home, and now Im homeless again! How am I supposed to be calm?

At that moment, a tech specialist emerged with my phone.

The video and photos are authentic. They were shot on this device today at 10:20 AM. Zero evidence of editing or deepfaking.

I turned to the others. See? Im telling the truth! The condo exists, they sold it to me, and we signed the papers in 1801!

Mark frowned. But the complex doesnt have an eighteenth floor, and we dont know you!

I shook my head, utterly confused.

Just then, I saw the kind old man from this morningmy neighbor. Mr. Walter Stone was being escorted into the station.

I felt a surge of hope. Look! He was my neighbor! He lived right next door on the eighteenth floor! Hes here because his condo vanished too!

Mrs. Fion's face lit up. Oh, I know Walter! He was my daughters middle school teacher. Bring him over!

The officer addressed Mr. Stone. Sir, do you live in Unit 1802 at the Sycamores?

Mr. Stone shook his head. I do not.

I felt my heart plummet. No! Youre right next door! I saw you just this morning!

Mr. Stone looked at me curiously. Im sorry, I dont recognize you. Mrs. Fion, however, is my neighbor.

Mrs. Fion smiled knowingly. Thats right. Walter and I have been neighbors for decades.

I refused to give up. We had seen each other! Please, look at me! Mrs. Fion sold her condo to me this morning! I saw you when I left, and we exchanged greetings! Have you forgotten?

Mr. Stone looked genuinely terrified. I have never seen you before in my life.

My peripheral vision caught the sight of a group of people in white coats walking towards me. The pure, visceral terror of electroshock therapy from my past life washed over me.

I dropped to my knees. Please, then why are you here? If youre not looking for your condo, what are you doing at the police station?

My dog is missing. Im filing a missing pet report.

Despair set in. Why didn't they know me? Why did the eighteenth floor disappear? Why was my home gone?

Wait. The dog!

I suddenly understood everything.