Dots and Zeros [Completed]

27. Madeline

It feels surreal being back. The same building. The same elevator behind the glass doors. The same difficulty parking.

Ramona and I walk into the lobby. It's the same, except for the carpet. It used to be a dark red carpet covering every single spot on the floor. It's light brown laminate flooring now. The rest is the same.

Glass doors separate the rest of the lobby. The doors can only be unlocked by a key or from upstairs. You ring the bell here, they open from upstairs. Every apartment has its own doorbell with a little speaker-microphone-combo underneath. Each doorbell belongs to a mailbox with a name on it.

'What's Julian's last name?' Ramona asks.

'Mosse.'

'I'll start on this side, you on the other.'

I nod and walk to the right side of the mailbox-wall. His name should be on this side, considering he lives on the top floor. My eyes go directly to his mailbox. At least, what his used to be. There's a different name now.

He wouldn't have given up this perfect apartment. At the perfect place in the city. I scan the rest of the mailboxes. The more unknown names I read, the more desperate I get. I read faster and faster looking for his name.

'I don't see it on my side,' Ramona says. 'Did you find it?'

I don't respond. Instead, I read Ramona's side of the mailboxes as well. No Julian Mosse. He wouldn't have moved out. Would he? No, he wouldn't.

'I'm afraid he doesn't live here anymore,' Ramona says.

It can't be. I walk back to the right side of the mailboxes. My finger goes to the right doorbell. A beeping starts, just like you're waiting for the person on the other side of the call to pick up the phone.

'You found him?' Ramona asks.

'No. But he has to be here.'

The person living in the apartment picks up from their home.

'Yes?'

The quality of the call has become better over the years.

'Hi,' I say as I move closer to the speaker-microphone-combo. 'Does Julian Mosse live here?'

'Obviously not,' they say. 'You can't read the name on the mailbox?'

They hang up. I read the names on the mailboxes again. There must be someone who sounds familiar.

'Madeline, he clearly doesn't live here anymore.'

I hum.

'I mean, how long has it been? Twenty years?'