Imagining Us

Ch.51 - Maybe We Go Forward From Here ?

Esi stood in front of the sleek black door. Next to it was a sign labeled '407' in gold letters. She was on the highest floor of the modern apartment. The hallway was eerily silent and smelled rich.

Luka had given her the entry code, and even the key to enter the building. Though, she didn't miss the strange look that the doorman gave her. She had begrudgingly shot him the sunniest smile that she could muster and hoped that it did the job.

She ran her fingers over the key fob in her hand. Luke told her to just open the door and waltz in, but she had the decency to at least knock.

There was no answer.

She tapped the key against the panel and watched as the small light flickered from red to green.

Click.

Esi pushed the door open to darkness, stepped in, and closed the door softly. It was hard to clearly see the layout of the room.

"Porte..."she called softly.

No answer.

Esi called his name two more times, still no answer.

She ran her hand along the wall next to the door for a light switch. When she found it, she gently pushed it. Soft light showered the room which turned out to be a foyer with a coat closet. She shrugged off her jacket and hung it next to what she recognized was Porte's long black coat.

Esi stepped into the hallway—there was a fork. She could walk straight ahead or turn to the left.

From where she stood, she could see a faint white light coming from her left, illuminating the kitchen.

Going that way seemed like a less invasive option.

Porte's kitchen was double the size of hers and Lena's; she wondered how often he used it.

She set the parcels down on the grey granite countertop. It was silent, no other sound except the soft hum of the stainless steel fridge.

Was it weird that she'd taken a sharp inhale when she'd stepped into the room?

A light citrus scent permeated the air.

If he was as sick as Luke said, she'd expected the kitchen to be a mess, but it was strangely spotless.

She didn't have time to observe more of the decor when a groan sounded from her right.

The living room was dark, curtains drawn. The only light was from the electric fireplace below the wall mounted flatscreen.

"Porte?" She called again softly.

Esi tiptoed across the hardwood floor towards the longest couch.

Her hand flew to her mouth as she smothered a smile.

If it wasn't for the circumstances of him being sick, she would laugh at how bundled up he was under a fluffy green blanket.

His normally perfect hair stuck up in different directions as he attempted to curl his long frame into a fetal position. She assumed that he was sleeping but couldn't tell since he was facing the back of the sofa.

Poor baby.

There was a single bottle of water, a box of tissues, and a waste paper bin.

Not a medicine bottle in sight.

"Porte," she reached out to gently to shake his shoulders—he was wearing the thickest jumper.

He had probably felt cold, but she could see little beads of sweat along his hairline, darkening the roots of his hair.