Isn’t He Supposed To Be Dead?

After keying in the code to unlock the door, they entered the building, and the quiet hum of the city outside gave way to the muffled silence of the hallways. 

Their footsteps echoed off the polished floors as they made their way up to the third floor. 

When they reached the door to the apartment, Ariel hesitated, turning to face him. For a moment, she looked like she might say something more, but then she simply knocked twice.

The door swung open, and a woman in her late fifties, with silver-streaked hair and a warm but wary expression, greeted them. She cast a quick glance at George, sizing him up, before turning her focus back to her Ariel.

"And who might this be?" she asked with a sharp edge to her tone. 

This was the first time Ariel was bringing a man home in years after finishing grad school. 

Ariel shifted uncomfortably, but still had to say something. "This is George, Mom. He's… the one I told you about."