Apartment 28 | H.S

Two

It's Thursday, four days later when the door to apartment 28 is open again and it made Angelina's stomach twist in a weird way.

She wondered who was in there, since she didn't have anybody close. Although Mary had friends, but they were too old to pack up an apartment.

The clock was just after seven in the morning, her tired eyes widened as she got closer to the apartment, carefully peeking inside. No one.

Angelina sighed and took a few steps further into the apartment which looked just the same as the last time she was there, except for a missing 4'9 lady drinking tea in the rocking chair and the various empty boxes laying around.

She went over to the chair, placing her fingers on the headrest, looking out the window to see what Mary saw each morning. The traffic on the road outside, people leaving their apartments for work and birds sitting on the telephone wires. It wasn't a particularly pretty view, but it was calming in a way of how it was so casual and everyday-like.

"What are you doing?"

The question made Angelina jump; the British accent was similar to Mary's but the voice didn't belong to an old lady.

She turned around with a hand to her heart, "you scared me."

A man stood ahead of her, tall figure staring with his eyebrows creased and a framed picture in hand.

"Who are you?"

Angelina came to her senses, of course someone would be scared to see a random woman standing in a dead lady's apartment at seven in the morning.

"I'm Angelina," she got closer to the man, "and you're Harry."

As she got closer, she saw the man's features, sun kissed skin around green eyes, pouty mouth formed into a straight line in between sharp jaws and hair tucked behind the ears, curls falling down onto his shoulders.

Angelina had seen him before, in pictures. Mary never hesitated to show his beloved grandson in photos, although most of them were old but the boy looked just about the same, except a whole lot more handsome, enchanting even.

Harry nodded slowly, then seemed to realize he knew who she was as well, "You're the neighbor."

She nodded, now standing just a foot away from Harry.

"I'm sorry for your loss."

Harry nodded with a gulp, taking the framed photo up to look at it again, it was a picture that had stood on a shelf in the living room. Harry couldn't have been too old in it, fifteen at most. He had a big smile on his lips as he hugged the much smaller grandma. Angelina loved that photo, they both looked so happy.

"You know," Angelina chuckled, "Mary really wanted me to meet you, she said that I-"

"Would love me," Harry finished her sentence, looking up at her with tired eyes and a quick raise to the eyebrows, "I've heard the same thing."

Angelina tried to smile but had a feeling that even if she managed to push one to her lips it wouldn't make Harry feel any better.

"She always said things like that." Harry walked over to the kitchen island, putting the framed photo on top of it next to a box. "Always optimistic about life and love and only saw the good in people. Nana was convinced we'd marry each other if we ever met."

"Yeah, I liked that about her, the optimism I mean," Angelina agreed.

"How gullible of her to think you'd actually like me. Or that I'd like you."

Angelina got confused, "Why do you think so?"

Harry shrugged, proceeding to pack down photos and albums into a cardboard box. "I don't know."