One Tucson woman hired a shapeshifting entity off a home renovation app, and while the accent wall slaps, she hasn’t been alone since.

I want to start by saying I did my research. Or what I believed, at the time, constituted research. I read the reviews on the app — four-point-eight stars, mostly five, one suspicious one-star from a user named ‘DoNotHire_Navajo_County_Warning’ that I absolutely did scroll past — and I booked the appointment. The listing said ‘shapeshifting interior consultant, specializes in transitional and maximalist spaces, bring reference photos.’ I had reference photos. I had a Pinterest board called ‘Desert Noir Apartment Goals’ and I had $800 cash, which the listing specified very clearly had to be cash, left on the windowsill, before sunrise. That should have been my second sign. My first sign was that the profile photo changed every time I refreshed the page.

The entity — listed in the app as ‘Walker_Designs_AZ’ with a little verified checkmark — arrived on a Tuesday. I say ‘arrived’ loosely. My neighbor Dolores, who lives directly across the hall in Unit 4B and is seventy-three years old and completely unflappable, told me she saw my door open on its own at approximately 6:47 a.m. and heard what she described as ‘the sound a coyote would make if it were also a person thinking very hard about being a coyote.’ By the time I woke up at seven-thirty, there was a mood board on my kitchen table, three fabric swatches I did not own, and my cat Mr. Buttons was sitting in the corner staring at something I could not see with the focused intensity of a creature who has accepted his fate.

Community Notice

The Accent Wall, Though. The Accent Wall.

Here is where I have to be honest with you, and with myself, and with the WTC audience who trusted me to report accurately on this experience: the accent wall in my living room is genuinely stunning. A deep terracotta with a matte finish that somehow manages to look both ancient and extremely of-the-moment. There are subtle handprint patterns pressed into it at irregular intervals that I did not ask for and cannot explain logistically, given that the entity was working unsupervised and I was asleep. My friend Cara, who has a design degree from ASU and told me for years my apartment looked like ‘a Pottery Barn catalog during a depressive episode,’ came over on Thursday and stood in front of that wall for four full minutes without speaking. ‘I hate that this is good,’ she said finally. I felt that.

The throw pillows were arranged in a pattern I later identified as a protective binding sigil. Which, honestly, adds texture to the space. Visually and spiritually.

— Margot Tillens, Tucson, Homeowner and Reluctant Client

The bolder choices, however, require some unpacking. The entity rearranged my furniture so that every seat in the apartment faces the front door. Every single one. My desk chair, my reading chair, the barstool I use at the kitchen island — all rotated. The explanation that came to mind first was ‘surveillance,’ and the explanation that came to mind second was also ‘surveillance.’ It also replaced all of my warm-toned light bulbs with bulbs that emit a slightly cooler, bluer light, which gives the apartment a quality I can only describe as ‘liminal’ and which three separate visitors have mentioned makes them feel, and I am quoting directly here, ‘watched.’ The entity also hung a mirror in the hallway that was not in my apartment before and is not from any store I can identify. I have looked. I have looked very hard. The back of the mirror has something carved into it in a script that two professors at the U of A linguistics department described as ‘pre-contact and concerning.’

I knocked on her door to borrow her tape measure and she answered and she was fine, totally fine, but for just a second her eyes were — I don’t know how to say this — loading. Like a webpage loading. And then she was just Margot again and she offered me a cup of coffee.

— Dolores Archambeau, Neighbor, Unit 4B, 10-Year Resident

Is It Still Here? An Investigation.

The reason I am filing this report — the reason I am being transparent with the WTC readership about my choices, including the choice to hire a shapeshifting entity off an app, the choice to go back to sleep instead of supervising, and the choice to keep the mirror — is that I am not entirely certain the entity left. This is not a feeling I can substantiate empirically, and yet. The apartment feels occupied in a way it did not before. Not threatening, exactly. More like when you have a houseguest who is very quiet and very still and always seems to already be in whatever room you walk into. Last night I said aloud, to no one visible, ‘the furniture arrangement actually works, I’m keeping it,’ and I heard, from somewhere that was not quite the kitchen and not quite the hallway, a sound that I am choosing to interpret as acknowledgment. Whether that is the correct interpretation is, I will admit, above my pay grade. What I will say is that my apartment looks incredible, I am sleeping with the lights on, and if Walker_Designs_AZ drops a spring lookbook I will absolutely be clicking the link.

WTC News reached out to Walker_Designs_AZ for comment. The account responded with a series of interior design photos — all of which appeared to be of my apartment — and then the account ceased to exist. Tucson residents seeking home renovation services are advised to verify contractor licensing with the Arizona Registrar of Contractors, to avoid listings that specify pre-dawn payment windows, and to perhaps consider just living with the IKEA furniture a little longer. This has been Evelyn Crowe reporting from a city that has always had a complicated relationship with its desert, from inside an apartment that is staring back at me, and honestly? The bones are great.