But there were child's corner that ruined the entire adult illusion.
Dolls sat in a neat row near one wall, their painted eyes staring outward with the blank serenity of tiny witnesses who had seen too much and decided silence was safer. Stuffed animals occupied a low shelf in careful formation, as though awaiting inspection. Bright plastic blocks had been gathered into transparent containers with military precision.
A miniature kitchen stood beside a small pink table, complete with toy plates, cups and what appeared to be a wooden cake that had survived several ceremonial executions.
Everything had been allocated to a specific place with suspicious precision.
Someone in this apartment either possessed terrifying organizational skills or had surrendered to the reality that children multiplied objects when left unsupervised, like a soft, sticky plague that left fingerprints on every surface and demanded tribute in the form of new toys.
The air carried the warm sweetness of food.
