Faceless Instincts

Departure Letter

I looked up at Amy, "you found this under the door?"

She nodded.

"Amy," I paused, "I wanted to ask a few things"

"Sure," she said.

I looked around, people had started coming in and out of the building, "not here, in my office." I stood up with little effort and walked inside.

I noticed how everything felt like a restrained memory. I was here a few days ago, yet somehow it felt like I hadn't walked here for ages however, everything looked good. I walked towards my desk, the black oak, finely polished table was now a faded brown, a thin layer of dust covered it and almost everything in the room.

I noticed how a window that was well hidden by the bookcase had been left open. I moved the curtains on the wide window aside and opened all the others, letting the fresh air fill the damp room. I pat the chair a few times to release the excess dust and sat on it. My memory flashed back to the night at Dorian's home, when in the dark all I felt was dust but when the light turned on everything was glistening.

I rested my elbows on the table; how could that happen? The most logical as well as a practical explanation that came into my mind was the timing of the incident.

Similarly, how a small open window covered my office in unnoticeable dust it could be possible that something similar happened at Dorian's place as well. The only difference was of day and night, I felt more at ease as quickly as my mind raced to the possibility and conclusion.

It could either be the dynamic range of the light or the contrast ratio of my vision, a brighter sun made it easy for me to notice this easily over the dark surface but the lack of bright light and the presence of an artificial lamp made it difficult to notice on the light coloured furniture in his home.

As if on cue my phone chimed with a text from Mr Wembley saying he wanted to see me after one hour as he was going for a meeting. But I was close by and didn't mind waiting so I decided to go there and instead.

Amy walked in after a little period with a coffee in her hand, but I had already changed my mind considering a constructive development that just took place. This reasonable incident had made me question so many things moreover myself; my instincts.

"I need to go," I told her and rushed outside.

"But your coffee?"

"You can have it," I said as I walked out of the door.

"And what about the question you had?"

"Come to my home tonight"

I hailed a taxi and got inside, "Chapel Street"

I settled back and took out my phone. My finger grazed the letter, I was intrigued to look at it now but I knew I had to wait. Somehow I felt it wasn't anything bad. Maybe just an instinct.

I was clambering the stairs slowly, they never seemed so many before but today I counted 83. I turned the corner and neared  Mr Wembley's office when I heard something, "you can't be here" Wembley said in a suppressed voice

"Why?" A familiar voice asked.

I neared the door further, "because you have been here before and none of us liked the ending of that."

Suddenly I heard a chair move, instinctively I rushed to the nearest turn as fast as I could and backed against the wall. I leaned forward when I heard the doorknob click, what I saw made me close my eyes and look again just to make sure it was true, Mr. Wembley emerged from the room and following him was a man. He was tall and lean, for a second I thought it was Dorian, but I had no security as I hadn't seen the face.