Re: Lobby, near the stairs
Despite some strange meetings over the past days, Clare’s habits had remained fairly well intact, and the beginning of the week found her doing her laundry and folding everything neatly to place back in the drawers of her simple dresser. As she slipped her underthings (white, plain, boring) into their assigned drawer, her fingers brushed against the edge of the notebook she had shoved there the same day it had arrived. She hadn’t pulled it out since then, neither the book nor the key that had arrived with it, and had been blissfully ignorant of what others had been dealing with in regards to their own journals. As her fingers caught the edge of the cover, something within her prompted, insisted that she draw the notebook out into the light.
She looked at the plain cover for a long, uncertain moment before flipping it open, surprised to find words already there. She couldn’t understand any of the talk about the doors, about crossing (it didn’t make sense!), and she stood there confused for a very long time. It was inching along to be the time she usually readied herself for bed, but instead she simply sat on the stiff, uncomfortable couch that had come with the apartment, and held the notebook in her hands. Midnight wasn’t so very far off, after all.
She was shocked to find a taxi waiting to take someone somewhere, even at the very late (to her) hour, but she climbed in and recited the address. The key and notebook were both tucked securely in her purse, and she was still wearing the same clothing she’d worn to work that day - the same thing she wore nearly every day: dress with a knee-length hem, opaque tights, cardigan sweater, and simple flat shoes. After they’d arrived, money passed over to the driver, Clare headed inside with tentative steps, worried at what she would find inside.
What she found was candles, dust, and a strange feeling that pulled her forward. That, and a man paused at the foot of the stairs, muttering to himself. She overheard his words, having crossed the lobby on soft-soled flats, and cleared her throat quietly. “Did you... did you want some help?”