A single open file folder on damp carpet. Coffee gone cold. Ceiling tiles buzzing like trapped flies. In Between is an anthology of stories that take place in the spaces we try not to notice — the corridor between closing time and the last train, the pause between a knock and an answer, the hum of fluorescent light when you're the only one left in the building. Each episode is a self-contained tale of quiet dread: a night-shift security guard whose rounds reveal a floor that shouldn't exist, a temp worker who finds a locked drawer with her own name on it, a woman waiting for a bus that stopped running years ago. Luna's voice is the only constant — intimate, barely above a whisper, as if she's sitting beside you in that featureless room. The stories share a mood: the horror of liminal spaces, of corporate desolation, of the moment when you realize the door you came through has disappeared. No grand monsters, no gore — just the slow, suffocating realization that you are somewhere you were never meant to be, and the exit signs all point inward. Open the folder. Read the first page. But be careful: once you're in between, you may never find your way out.

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