About this location
A few stories people tell about this place
1. Late one night, as Hanson & Mouri’s neon sign flickered in the distance, a delivery driver pulled up to the loading dock. The air was heavy with an unfamiliar scent—a mix of old books and something sweet. Curious, he leaned closer, only to hear faint whispers coming from inside the empty building. Curious, he peered through the window and saw two figures hunched over ancient documents, their heads so close they almost touched. Startled, they turned—and it was just the partners arguing over who’d forgotten to lock the door again. "Next time, use the keypad," muttered Hanson, shaking his head. The delivery driver chuckled softly and drove off into the night, leaving behind only the familiar hum of Hanson & Mouri's neon sign.
2. Late one night, as Hanson & Mouri's neon sign flickered in the distance, a delivery driver noticed something peculiar on the loading dock—a mysterious briefcase, its handle wrapped in brown paper and sealed with an old-fashioned wax seal. Curious but cautious, he opened it gently, revealing only a single sheet of ancient-looking parchment. Written in elegant script was a note: 'To whomever finds this—please return to Hanson & Mouri. We owe you a drink.' The delivery driver smiled, shook his head, and walked away, whistling a tune.
3. Late one night, as Hanson & Mouri’s neon sign flickered in the distance, a delivery driver noticed something odd. On the firm’s empty parking lot, an old briefcase kept opening and closing on its own. Curious, he approached it, but when he bent down to pick it up, the case whispered ‘Lost my keys… can you help?’ Turning around, everyone saw only empty streets. The next morning, a neighbor found him sleeping outside Hanson & Mouri with a smile, holding an old keyring marked ‘Property of Hanson & Mouri’.
4. Late one night, as Hanson & Mouri’s neon sign flickered in the distance, a familiar scent wafted through the air—something between old books and freshly brewed coffee. A delivery driver passing by wrinkled his nose, thinking it odd but not alarming. Curious, he parked nearby and peered inside. The receptionist, an elderly gentleman with half-glasses askew, yawned and waved him off, muttering something about ‘just another late-night client.’ Turns out it was just a neighbor dropping off some forgotten documents—an occurrence so common that even the ghostly scent of Hanson & Mouri had become part of the neighborhood’s bedtime routine.