lieold.

Sitting on the sofa again, pile of pages on the cushions around. Like sitting in a pile of leaves, everything out of order. Turn the light off, back on, look around and back off. Very dark, the rustle as one page falls, a body moving blindly.

There is light at the end of the hall, under a closed door. Stop next to a dark one and think in front of it before tapping lightly. Open at no response, then laugh down and raise another smile. Overhead light switch, yellowish horror for seeing but making the perimeter glow. Every surface looks empty, the blinds over the windows bright.

Wander into the room and sit on the corner of the wildly unmade bed.

You are here, with a surprised noise as the covers move.
Don't wake up. I'm going out. I just wanted you to know that I was going out. He's checking his cell, neat on the pillow next to him.
You know I don't like when you do this. Step backward through the door, sweeping it closed after a pointed toe like a witch sweeping her cloak.

Then tapping on her window, standing outside tapping at windows to catch those few minutes from the top. She emerges from the door within the courtyard and gestures that she will follow them. Noncommittal, vague presence without questions. Observing and keeping pace. This isn't reality, it's an outline similar to an idealized view, with a drop of Johnny Walker. A fourth pauses his pace as well and they find a short term mix to move at. The line floating from his throat flickering repeatedly, the rain holding back. Four distinctly different walkers on a night path. When one stops, the break in movement is staggered unevenly. They become themselves, four people standing along the grass at the edge of the sidewalk in front of a house.

She turns on the spot, checking the street for something recognizable.
It's 3 am.
Something wrong?
The car isn't here. It wasn't here the other day either. Look into the faces. I think I messed up. There might be a... problem. Saying the last word at the cold air that's also set firmly on the concrete sidewalk. Spoken like stones dropping out of lips.

The others nod, looking at her as though this makes much more sense to them than it does to her, just looking at her. They could tell her something, maybe- What they say is that she could dress up warmer if she wants to go out. They start walking again and she looks around, then follows.
He has my email address, I think that's all.