Of Pseudonyms & Suit Ties

A Chance Encounter

I get off the train a couple stops after I usually do, UNKNOWN keeping me company.

From chatting with him, I've learned that he's from Korea but studying abroad in Marseille, France and his favorite food is ice cream. (Tried to tell him that ice cream shouldn't really be counted as a favorite food and he sent me a lot of angry emoticons, lol.) He also has a brother whom he doesn't seem to like very much, but that's all he wanted to say.

I arrived at the apartment complex and haggled my way through security, texting UNKNOWN about my progress.

***

________________________________________________________________________________

UNKNOWN

________________________________________________________________________________

UNKNOWN: Do you see some kind of passcode lock?

Yea,

I knocked already, but no one answered

UNKNOWN: Ok, well, you wanna try the code I have?

Can this be counted as breaking and entering

UNKNOWN: ... But you aren't breaking anything?

good point.

UNKNOWN: You can just go in and leave a note.

UNKNOWN: And who knows, maybe the code 

won't even work ^^;

UNKNOWN: You're already there, so might as 

well do something before leaving, right?

Alright, will do~

UNKNOWN: Ok, the code is: 226381194

Thanks, bro

UNKNOWN: No,

UNKNOWN: tha

UNKNOWN: nk

UNKNOWN: you.

You ok there?

-------------UNKNOWN has left the chatroom------------

________________________________________________________________________________

***

Hmm ... maybe he lost connection?

I shrug it off and enter the apartment, drinking in the new scenery. The space seemed comfortable and well-lived in, but every surface was covered in dust and the floor space was crowded with stacks of files and other office junk.

I step around a few piles of paperwork that were placed too close to the door and brush my hand over one of the stacks, getting dust all over my fingertips. I frown as I shake it off and delve deeper into the apartment.

How could anyone live like this?

Oh never mind that, I'm just leaving a note. I pick my way through the files and book stacks and into the kitchen, pulling a pen from my bag and searching the countertops for a napkin or a paper plate to write on. I reach for one of the drawers, hesitating for just a moment as I really think about what I'm about to do.