Loggia

It happened two years ago, when I was 19. At 11 pm, I was returning from work. I was walking through the courtyards; it was dark. I called my mother to find out where she was. She said she, my father, and my sister were visiting relatives and would be staying there for a while. I headed home, and my gaze fell on our apartment window (we live on the fourth floor, and the light on the loggia is always on, even when no one is home). What I saw surprised me greatly: right before my eyes, a black silhouette emerged from the kitchen onto the loggia. I called my mother again to find out if anyone was home. She said there was definitely no one there. I thought it might be burglars, but then again, we had an alarm system. When I went up to the entrance, I checked the alarm—it was working properly, without any alarms. I felt a little scared. I pulled a folding knife out of my pocket and quietly opened the door. Entering the apartment, I headed toward the kitchen and from there out onto the balcony. Everything happened in an instant: whoever was there turned sharply in my direction and, before I could get a good look at them, literally vanished into thin air. I don't know what it was or who it was, but nothing like that has happened since.