He stepped into the open doorway. Where could she be? He asked himself. He felt his worry spike as the negative possibilities clouded his mind. He skipped two steps at a time as he flew up the staircase. He scrambled to find any open doors, any sign that she was okay. All except hers. Her door was closed. He frantically jogged down the hall to her door. He dove for the door handle.
The smell of stale, steadfast air met him before he even opened her door. He did not recognize the smell, and he didn't like it. It didn't smell like her, and he wanted to believe that everything was alright. Her smell calmed him, but there was none of her here.
YOU ARE READING
Her
Short StoryWhere could she be? He asks himself. The negative clouds his mind. Warning!!! May be a trigger for some!!!
