Everything Is Blue

Chapter 2

The nerve of some people.

Kimbra ranted to herself as she rifled through her purse. After the unfortunate run-in with Bud Flud, she left the party. Kimbra knew that sticking around would only encourage the narcissistic CEO to try chatting with her again. Neither of them had anything to talk about. Bud might have been chosen as her sponsor, but that didn't mean she had to be nice. No way would she ever work with a man like him.

Never in a million years.

“Where did I put it?” She muttered aloud, still searching for the key to the apartment.

On the other side of St. Canard stood a modest, but elegant apartment complex called GraStone Village. It offered a sense of comfort and peace, unlike the rest of the busy city. The residents were tolerable—as most were quiet and considerate of their neighbors.

Well, besides Larry on the fourth floor. He has issues with boundaries.

Kimbra began living at GraStone once she graduated from university. Being out of a dorm and on her own provided a grasp of freedom she had never experienced. Sure, moving thousands of miles away from her hometown and into a bustling city was freeing, but the university campus and strict rules put a damper on that.

Her pace down the hallway remained slow, as she didn't want to bump into anyone. She wasn't expecting to see anybody else out at this hour, but it's better to be safe than sorry. 
Kimbra felt a pang of worry surge through her chest as she hadn't found the key yet.

Did she forget it inside the apartment?

No, Kimbra specifically remembered tucking the key in her bag before she left.

Did she lose it during the party?

Probably.

If she couldn't recover it, she'd just have to call the landlord to let her in. And considering how late it was, he wouldn't be answering the phone tonight. Most of St. Canard was in a deep slumber by now.

Except for Kimbra.

She was accustomed to being up at these ungodly hours. Working on projects or signing the stack of paperwork that towered on her desk. While the city slept, Kimbra worked tirelessly to make the world a better place. Or at least she tried. 

Not that anything she did ever mattered. 

Kimbra's fingers brushed against something other than receipts or pocket change. It yanked her out of the depression she had spiraled into. Over the years, she developed the unpleasant habit of overthinking situations to the point her mood would drop. (Something her therapist scolded her for.)

Kimbra quit walking and pulled the object out from the depths of her purse.

“Aha! Found it!” She held up a small silver key triumphantly.

She looked ridiculous.

The next step was finding her apartment door. So, Kimbra took in her surroundings, hoping she stopped near it. Dozens of bland wooden doors lined each side of the hallway. Three large black numbers adorned the front of each door. (Each has its own unique number.) They were the easiest way to remember which apartment was yours.