For something to be abandoned, it needed to have been lived in. And I think I was the first person to ever set foot inside. I walked over to the sink, trying not to expect much but expecting everything. When the rush of water flowed out, my brain didn't quite allow my eyes to believe it. Real, moving water. White and aerated, and cold enough to permeate my skin, sending a pleasant chill zinging through my bones. He grinned and I wanted to break something. Maybe his bones. But that felt like a dangerous road. And if I couldn't get rid of him – short of physically picking him up and carrying him outside (which I seriously considered) – there was no way I was getting the other ones to leave, too.