1.

Stranger
It was a dark and depressing day. I sauntered around the bus-stop
with my camera. On the inside I was feeling restless, purposeless
even. On the outside I was appearing calm, professional. I noticed
the large flock of ravens circling the hospital-building right
across the street. It made for a good picture, but I observed the
phenomenon, with a dreadful weariness holding me down.
A bus approached and halted. It was close to empty. Except for
that one girl. Evalyne.
I didn’t know her at the time, neither had I expected getting
aquainted with her ways, but she sure gripped me tightly the
moment she got off the bus, that fateful evening.
Black military boots, a red and black checkered skirt, and a low-
cut top that didn’t do much to hide her large pair of breasts.
Wearing headphones playing some late 90’s rock-ballads, she passed
me by, giving me a short glance. For a moment I stood nailed to
the ground, but quickly I began following her footsteps. A
moderate pace, firmly planting her boots on the concrete, she drew
me into the swirly streets of the old city. I kept a quiet
distance imagining taking her photos in a lonesome apartment, my
heart filling with gloomy anticipation. She made a sharp turn and
when I reached around the corner she was gone...
Squinting my eyes I investigated the old buildings for a clue.
These were mostly student-housings and I figured she must’ve gone
inside somewhere. Something in me was warning me not to thread any
further down this path, but the knowledge of the unknown was
enticing me. I was quickly met in my desire to know more and found
one of the doors left widely open. A pair of black military boots
standing in the hallway.
Sad violin music was coming somewhere from above me. Peering into
the darkblue sky I felt an existential lonelyness. The longing for
a home in this guilt-stained world. The miss of an eternal friend.
The deep wish for companionship.
“Mee-awww.” A black cat sat in the hallway. I must’ve missed it
approaching me as I was staring into the clouds. Scatterminded, I
gave it some attention, petting it briefly, then glanced further
into the building. An old wooden staircasing was leading up at
least two floors. I decided to take my chances. The wood was
creaky and I felt like an intruder, stepping into dangerous
territory, but before I realised it I stood in front of an
apartment door. Number 66. I knocked.