Its been eight minutes since I sent my message. Seen, but no reply. Something must have happened. Maybe he’s hurt? It’s not unlikely that he tripped and hit his head. His apartment is a mess after all. Maybe he’s simply ignoring me? No, of course not. He’s not like that.
I grab the keys to my car which I conveniently placed next to my computer, and head out the door. I slice through the night air in my 96′ Corolla and wait impatiently at traffic lights as I rush through the suburbia. Maybe he’s simply not home? Out with his friends? Saw the message, but ignored it? No. Maybe he wants me to want him? Oh, I want him… I flick my blinker and make the corner into his street.
I pull into his driveway and jump out of my car, slamming the door after me in haste. I hurry into the building, a greasy old flat. One would think it has been long since abandoned by the looks of it, but I know better.
I go inside and run up the stairs. What if something really happened to him? No.. I must not think like that. But what if? I need to hurry. I’m panting by the time I reach the fourth floor, but now is not the time to rest. I hastily make my way to the unlocked door of his apartment and go inside. A laptop sits alone on a desk. I place my keys next to the laptop and sit down. Seen but no reply. Maybe he’s hurt.
I grab the keys to my car that lay next to my laptop and head out the door.