The Higher We Soar

5. Triviality

Exhausted beyond measure, my memory of Saturday a hazy blur, all I craved was to bury myself in my bed and to sleep for another week or so. Yet, as thoughts of Monday crept in, a smile tugged at the corners of my lips. Not because of work, for once, but because deep down, I already knew he'd find me during my coffee break and talk my ear off until I dropped. And oddly enough, I found myself looking forward to it.

He hadn't though.

Sometimes it happens that life catches up with you with its triviality and ordinaryness, no matter how hard you try to keep your positivity high and your composure unaffected.

Maddox, well, Maddie as he whimsically insisted on being called, was absent. Sophie promptly sent him home almost immediately when his mere presence threatened to transform her pristine office into a veritable germ factory. Speechless, not out of choice but due to his ailing voice, he had succumbed to a vicious case of a very common cold. Apparently, staying up all night, doing everything at once and drinking too much is not good for your health, no matter how young or full of energy you are.

His absence in the studio was noticeable, lending both advantages and disadvantages to the situation, at least for me. He couldn't talk much... but he could write, and he used it as often as he could, sending me occasional messages filled with his peculiar reflections on trivial matters, often making me laugh.

However, after a few days (two, to be exact), Sophie - well aware of my propensity to say yes and some of my frequent messages to the Golden Boy - requested very kindly and compellingly, that I should pay a visit to our prized intern. Despite my protests about not having enough time to do that—albeit not entirely truthful—Sophie's insistence left me with very little choice. And so, just a few hours later on a Wednesday afternoon, I found myself standing before a nondescript apartment building, its facade strikingly similar to my own.

The charm, or perhaps the irony, of urban life.

On a whim, and driven by a sense of poetic justice, I decided not to inform Maddox about my intentions, relishing the prospect of catching him in his most unguarded, not-very-golden state.

After my third knock he swung the door to his apartment open, carelessly draped in a soft blanket, his appearance disheveled yet endearingly cozy. Clutching a cup of something hot, his expression morphed into a blend of shock and disbelief. I couldn't help but revel in the surprise etched across his face. With a victorious smile, I met his gaze, silently savoring the moment.

"What... w–what are you doing here?" he stammered, his voice hoarse and tired, his face pale, his eyes twinkly, his mug tilted dangerously, almost spilling its contents.

"Seems like an impromptu business trip of mine," I quipped, arching an eyebrow, "Sophie thought I should check up on you, since you keep bothering me anyway."

"You could've just texted," he grumbled, shifting uncomfortably from one cozy-socked foot to the other.

"Yes, I suppose I could have," I conceded, a playful glint in my eyes as I handed him the paper bag full of groceries. "But then I would have missed the priceless expression on your face."

He accepted the bag with a mixture of astonishment and gratitude, though he seemed more preoccupied with my unexpected presence than the contents within. For a moment, neither of us moved, a silent scene playing out between the threshold of his apartment and the corridor where I stood.

"How are you feeling?" I asked with a frown, unsure what to do next, "How's life as a prisoner of your own apartment? Heard you're having fun."

"Yeah, well... Let's just say I'm getting intimately acquainted with my sofa cushions," first he laughed, then frowned, shooting me a hesitant glance, "...shit, that didn't come out right, did it?"