I'm on pins and needles all day, and it is like I have had too much coffee. During lunch with Ruby, she questioned me about Alex. I told her we hadn't met, which, since I was blindfolded, is true.
I raced back to the office after we had a bite, me literally, but it seems I didn't need to bother.
Enzo left a note on my desk, letting me know he was out the rest of the day. But of course, he left me extra work.
And now I'm done. It is ten to seven, and I guess I didn't have to sit around filling time. The work, menial though it was, consumed time.
Butterflies dance in my stomach.
"Now or never."
I gather my things and head down to the ground floor. I stand on the pavement outside, in the thinning river of people.
There is no law I have to go to the building. I could walk up to Fifty-third and Lex. Or I could go past the Forty-ninth Street stop and head down to Times Square and Forty-second Street.
No pressure. None at all.
The butterflies start to dance and flit, hardcore, as I turn down Forty-ninth Street. And I stop at the building.
There is a guard outside who sees the papers I'm carrying. "I have to drop these off."
"The crew's gone home."
"I'm supposed to leave them in the office."
And he just nods. "First floor, third door."
I enter, and the door creaks shut behind me, leaving me in a world of frames from deconstructed rooms, power tools, and pipes. It is all pooling shadows and strung lights that offer a path of light spots that do nothing to ease the gloom.
First floor is up the stairs, and my heart thumps wildly as I put my hand on the railing.
The stairs are old, and I can smell sanded wood. The building is one where I think they are keeping the shell and certain features, just modernizing and changing the insides.
It doesn't mean the place isn't creepy.
The stairs take me further into the gloom, and I clutch the folders of blank papers to me, trying to adjust to the light that seems to get dimmer with every step I take.
When I hit the landing, I look around.
It is strange shapes and one light up ahead, the rest of the light filters in from boarded windows, and the result is a subtle crisscross of a nightmarish landscape I don't recognize.
Post-apocalypse, I think, and nerves ripple through me, cutting up the butterflies and the lining of my stomach.
I head to the one light.
It snaps out, and I stop. Frozen. In the dark.
Alex didn't tell me what would happen, just to get in here.
I want to curse him and this sudden need for the element of surprise, but I can't. Because there is something addictive about it.
Besides, I don't know if he is always like this or just like this with me.
I'm not sure what to do, so I force myself to take another step to where the light was, where the guard told me the office is.
And behind me, something crunches.
A foot on the bare concrete of this floor.
