“That one.”
A clean brick building. Updated doors. Soft yellow lights glowing in the lobby.
Totally normal.
Totally safe.
I almost laugh at myself for ever wondering.
She hops out, walks up the steps, punches in a code like she’s done it a thousand times. The door buzzes open.
See?
Not mysterious.
Not shady.
Just… a building.
She turns back to me.
“Hey— can you wait here?”
“Yeah?”
“My roommate might be sleeping. She’s got this whole early-morning study thing. If we wake her, she’ll kill me.”
I grin. “That serious, huh?”
“You have no idea.”
She says it light, joking, but she’s already halfway inside.
“Five minutes,” she adds. “Promise.”
“Take your time,” I say.
She disappears into the lobby.
Door clicks shut.
Five minutes turns into ten.
Then fifteen.
Then thirty.
I lean back in the driver’s seat, windows cracked, late-summer air drifting in.
A dog barks somewhere down the block.
Someone laughs.
A TV flickers blue behind a curtain across the street.
Normal neighborhood stuff.
Still.
