A thousand nights

XIII

Following Mallory, we advanced towards the mysterious room.

The corridor we were walking through had a low ceiling and was strangely narrow. I kept feeling long filaments of unidentified origin brushing delicately on the sides of my hair and forehead, I assumed they were long spiderwebs even though my imagination was having a good time terrorizing me. Here the dust seemed to be even denser than in the living room; thick fluffy layers of it were covering my shoes and jeans. I felt grateful for not being allergic to dust.  I  pointed the flashlight at the faded walls, they were bare and seemed like their wallpaper had been torn away from schizophrenic souls playing their last tricks before departing this life. Every step I took toward the door made me feel impatient, my instincts were yelling at me to get the hell out, but I couldn't help the inner restless excitement building up within me. I couldn't ignore this feeling I had given for dead for so long. 

Mallory in front of me was walking again in a rigid way as if she too wanted to get out of there. I frowned wondering why she'd gotten here in the first place.

She finally stopped in front of a door. It was different from any other we had seen so far. It was dark blue and it looked less smeared with time and dirt. Mallory gently pushed the door open, it surprisingly didn't crick. I could almost feel the fluidity of the gears as the door allowed us entrance in what was hidden in the room it protected. 

She turned to look at me. Her face was hard to read. She walked in, giving me space to step in the semi-illuminated room.

It was small and messy, there were bookshelves aligned on every wall: big, small and thin books were everywhere. There was a strong smell of old paper, and the room felt claustrophobic but immense with all the stacks of books aligned at every available surface. I walked around what looked like a small victorian-age office, pointing my flashlight to the titles on the sides of the books.

'How did you know about this room?' I asked trying to figure out the name of the brown hardcover books in front of me. It was, unfortunately, fading away.

'I've been coming here for a long time' she sighed.

'Why?'

'...I really like old books, this place...'

I looked back at her, she was walking along the opposite bookshelf to where I stood, gently running her fingers on the books on the shelves.

'This place is a story to unravel' she faced me and slowly made her way toward me 'why was this place abandoned? Why did the owners leave all these books here but not the furniture? Why does this room look so...'

'Different' I concluded.

We looked each other at the same time. She was smiling up at me and I, well, was smiling too. It wasn't like I had forgotten everything about what Mallory Grace Johnson had done, but I decided to bury the thoughts deep inside me as I enjoyed the moment.

'So..' I paused 'why didn't you want me to see this place?' 

Mallory looked down at her feet where her flashlight pointed. A few strands of her golden-red locks came loose on the sides of her face. Looking at her directly in those deep green pits of eyes was almost impossible. It looked like she was protecting her self from the outside world.

'It's just because it's an intimate place for me, I've been coming here ever since I was eight. I know I sound mad but this place intrigues me.'

The light from below her was casting dramatic shadows and highlights on her face, I followed with my eyes the curve of her uplifted nose, the vertical groove of her philtrum and her cherry full lips.