Grandmas House
Reading it prompted an eye roll, I snatched it up and started going over the detail of the dream in my head. Standing, I made my way over to my dresser mirror adorn with different colored sticky notes. Starting at the top was a blue sticky note with "Rule one remember your dreams." and "Who was the well-dressed man?" Neatly scrolled upon it. Below it were lines of different colored sticky notes with other descriptive words or phrases. Reaching for a new stack of pink sticky notes and a pen, I inscribe a unique detail to add to the mirror. I slap the sticky note on a free space making only my face left to reflect me, and I take notice of the messy reddish crow's nest adorning my head before my eyes flicker to the new sticky note reading Trust yourself. Dad repeated the words in the dream before the hands drug me off.
Checking the clock over my shoulder as it read six-fifteen forced a feeling of urgency. I looked around the room to grab loose clothing articles, quickly inhaling them to find something clean enough. Several tosses and whiffs later, I have a good ensemble that an oversized hoodie will smother. Grabbing my headphones, phone, a bottle of pills, and keys, slip on a pair of worn sneakers, double-check the only window in the apartment to make sure it's locked, and leave.
The hall's mixed carpet cleaner and various smoke smells hit my nose, jolting me further into consciousness. Quickly I pulled the door quietly shut, locking it without allowing the keys to jingle and making sure to move slowly enough to minimize the metallic clicks.
Double-check the knob, then walk as lightly to the staircase as possible. I am passing three doors adorned with numbers. I pause before passing by the threshold of an entrance wearing the letters LL, a custom job done by the landlady herself. A moment passes as I listen for any signs of life in the apartment. When I was sure I took up my last pace, I made it only three steps, though when the door swung open. I was now facing a stout woman wearing a nightgown and disapproving glare while I stood in mid-creep, slightly shaken by being caught.
"An' whir ur aff tae?" The words danced in my ears; I pulled my phone from my pocket and began typing.
"Running late for work." The words I wanted to reply on a white screen that the landlady took her time reading.
"Guid thin, a'll hev ma ren'." She held her hand out palm up at me; I stared into the empty hand for a moment before swiftly typing a reply.
"I get paid tonight and can bring it to you at the end of my shift." After a moment of reading, the landlady sucked her teeth as her mood softened.
" seein' 'at ye're ma ainlie tenan' I lek a'll waet." She said with a smile. I shook my head in gleeful appreciation.
"Thanks, Mrs. Riley. I'll see you later tonight." Shown on the screen.
"aye, aye gae oan afore ye're lat' lass." With that, I turn and pick a brisk pace to the elevator at the end of the hall. I press the call button, and the doors slide open to show a young man in the center of the elevator who stared nervously at his feet. He didn't notice me for a moment or that the elevator had stopped for that matter, but when he did gave a dazzling smile that sat below what I could see now were emerald eyes.
"Sorry, let me..." He sidled past me, allowing room for me to step on, his voice was soft, and I could hear a slight accent resembling Mrs.Rileys, but he couldn't be Mr.Riley, could he?
"Sorry... Again, but you wouldn't happen to know where a Mrs. Riley lives wuid ye?" For some reason, I felt glued to every word. That slowed my already slow responding speed and made me awkwardly gawk at him as he waited for a reply.
"Yes, sorry, the door marked LL." He read aloud as I showed him the phone's screen.
"Thanks..." Realizing he was asking for a name, I frantically erased what I had for a reply.
"Rose." His pronunciation of my name sent a bolt down my spine.
"Thanks a lot, Rose. I hope to read from you again." He let a smirk grow on his face as I replied with quick and enthusiastic head shakes. He waves his goodbye and makes his way down the hall. My curiosity forced me to hold the elevator door open and listen. He reaches the apartment door and knocks softly; Moments later, the door swings agape.
"Yer lat'!" She spat with an almost furious tone.
"Sorry mam, I got lost..." With that, he made his way into the apartment, and I allowed the elevator doors to shut. Mrs. Riley is a gorgeous woman, so it would stand to reason her children would follow suit, but that also made him off-limits rule number ten no ties to where you sleep, which knocked some wind out of those sails. I press the lobby button and lean back on the cold steel wall of the elevator, feeling it slide slowly through the old building. Reaching the bottom, I exit the elevator and quickly cross the empty lobby leaving out of the rotating doors. The city's icy wind cuts through my hoodie with ease as I shuffle towards the bus stop.
An older lady and teenage boy sat opposite ends on the bench, so I happily took the center. The boy with his jet black hair and matching clothing didn't look up from his phone while the woman, on the other hand, offered a sweet smile which I returned warmly before succumbing to my screen. Most phones, I'd assume, are filled with social media apps that are themselves filled with food recipes, little mundane DIY projects, and the occasional twerking video. At the same time, mine would consist of less sharable or viral topics, missing-person videos, or posts.
I follow every account that either is a missing person or relatives still searching in the city. With a city so big and with so many people, the police barely have enough human resources for active violent crimes. It's at the point where someone has created an app specifically for the citizens, PULSE.
The PULSE of the city scrolls across my screen before it flickers to my feed when I open it. Pulses homepage is where you could find all sorts of videos and info, anything from carjackings to possible drug dens littered the app, but most important was the filter function. With this, I could pick specific tags to hone in on particular incidents.
Starting with missing persons and then using the tags like WAT(Without a trace) and Miscellaneous, the feed is compiled into many first-hand accounts and videos of people going missing.
At first, I thought my circumstances would align only using the WAT tag. Still, I appeared blocks away, and my dad and the well-dressed man seemed to have disappeared from the spot with no clues. The added blocks to where the crime happened and where I was made the stories posted seem normal by comparison.
It wasn't until I noticed the miscellaneous tag adding it to the missing person filter made for a tangled web of unusable information that seemed purposefully confusing. When I used the WAT tag in the filters, I found a series of reasonable and unexplainable videos or first-hand experiences. Stories of missing wives who left their children in the middle of grocery stores still in the karts or phones found with videos of black-eyed children chasing people before they were reported missing. As I'm scrolling, I pause on a video with the thumbnail being a shaky glimpse of a teenager with jet-black eyes. The well-dressed man's purple gaze hacked its way to the forefront of my mind.