No delivery has been made.
As evening fell, a text message finally arrived.
“Please don’t contact me.”
I knew right away that it wasn’t Rachel.
Even during our worst arguments, she would always call instead of disappearing.
I went straight to his apartment.
His car was parked outside.
The lights were on.
But no one answered the door.
I pounded until my knuckles ached, I shouted his name through the door and tried calling him again.
Nothing.
A neighbor entered the hallway.
” Everything is fine ? ”
“I don’t know,” I admitted.
I waited in my car outside his building for almost an hour, watching for any sign of movement through his windows.
Nothing happened.
The following afternoon, she finally called.
His voice was trembling.
“I can’t explain over the phone.”
“When can we meet?” I asked.
“Tomorrow morning.”
