Each night at the Hotel Pennsylvania, there’s a candle burning in one of the rooms, and no one ever dares to enter without permission.
Early each morning, the groundskeeper enters the room, collects all the melted Wax, and takes it to the nearby graveyard, where he carefully deposits a small dollop upon each headstone.
No one has any idea how this enigmatic custom might have gotten started but so far it’s never for one second been subjected to any question.
The ominous blue facade of the building has never, during all its time, given away any such secrets.
Newcomers arrive daily on the only train, little knowing what enigmas lie in wait for them.
Leves rustle outside, always toward the direction of the graveyard.