Aug 15, 2022 12:46:54 GMT -5
Ethan Ashford likes this
Post by Deleted on Aug 15, 2022 12:46:54 GMT -5
A door handle. There it was. Brass, shiny, but hardly used. There was a fingerprint on it that was his own, and it caught the light that beamed through the hallway. All the rooms down the hallway stood parallel to one another and had exactly the same door handle, he noticed, but he wasn't keen on knowing the residents behind them.
He looked back at his own handle, and touched it. As he did, his eyes glazed over.
The reel in his head flickered through the mundanity of him entering and closing his door, until he reached the episode where he'd first entered through it. He was grasping the door handle, as a woman stood behind him.
"This is yours now," she said, her eyes ran cold but her voice was warm. He remembered that now. She was judging him. She didn't want him there. She didn't trust him. "If you need anything, just dial on your room phone for reception." Warm voice, cold eyes.
He removed his hand as though receiving a burn. The sudden glare of daylight had him squinting, blinking, readjusting back to the present. Since the first time he'd gone through those doors a few months ago, she had been the only visitor. Well, if he could call it a visitor - she hadn't even stepped over the threshold. No one had interacted with him except for a few nods of acknowledgement, but he hadn't exactly gone out of his way to be sociable. In fact, he'd become something of a shut in.
Who were his neighbours?
Would it be strange to go knocking on their doors? Especially now, when he'd already been there two months...
He walked to his neighbour's door and stood in front of it. He didn't really know what he was doing, but if he hovered for too long it may look suspicious, or creepy. Perhaps if he just lightly tapped on the door, and got cold feet when it swung open, he could make the excuse of it being an accident?
Urgh.
He lightly tapped on their door.
((OOC: Posts will get shorter likely haha))
He looked back at his own handle, and touched it. As he did, his eyes glazed over.
The reel in his head flickered through the mundanity of him entering and closing his door, until he reached the episode where he'd first entered through it. He was grasping the door handle, as a woman stood behind him.
"This is yours now," she said, her eyes ran cold but her voice was warm. He remembered that now. She was judging him. She didn't want him there. She didn't trust him. "If you need anything, just dial on your room phone for reception." Warm voice, cold eyes.
He removed his hand as though receiving a burn. The sudden glare of daylight had him squinting, blinking, readjusting back to the present. Since the first time he'd gone through those doors a few months ago, she had been the only visitor. Well, if he could call it a visitor - she hadn't even stepped over the threshold. No one had interacted with him except for a few nods of acknowledgement, but he hadn't exactly gone out of his way to be sociable. In fact, he'd become something of a shut in.
Who were his neighbours?
Would it be strange to go knocking on their doors? Especially now, when he'd already been there two months...
He walked to his neighbour's door and stood in front of it. He didn't really know what he was doing, but if he hovered for too long it may look suspicious, or creepy. Perhaps if he just lightly tapped on the door, and got cold feet when it swung open, he could make the excuse of it being an accident?
Urgh.
He lightly tapped on their door.
((OOC: Posts will get shorter likely haha))
