“ Here we are ,” he says as we step inside .
The interior of the lobby is red — red floral wallpaper , red carpet , red velvet chairs . It reminds me of the inside of a theater , or an old hotel . People mill around the lobby and rest in the chairs .
I think of the apartment I shared with Henry — the cool clean lines , the expanses of windows and the painful cut open feeling they gave me .
“ Unfortunately , the elevator is out of order ,” the young man says . “ The stairs are this way .”
He leads me through a pair of golden doors . We climb a red carpeted staircase .
“ Hang on ,” I say . “ Don ’ t I need to get the key ?”
I look around me , certain the young man was just a step ahead of me . But I ’ m alone in the stairwell .
You ’ ll never find anyone else , I hear Henry say , the memory so vivid it ’ s like he ’ s beside me now . You won ’ t be happy alone . It ’ ll be too quiet . You ’ ll come back .
He didn ’ t love you , I remind myself as I continue climbing the stairs , lugging my suitcase . He never loved you . He only pretended to because he was lonely . You couldn ’ t have stayed with him .
The young man is waiting for me at the top of the stairs …
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