Stupid Boy ; George Miller

;serendipity;

2:30 PM

"Here ya go, lady." The cab driver pulls to a stop in front of a tall apartment building. I grip the door handle, pushing open the door after handing the driver my cab fare. Stepping out of the taxi into the cold air, I pull out my suitcase with me, then close the door of the taxi.

Palming the apartment key in my left coat pocket, I take a breath and step up to the doors of the building. Before I open the doors, I pivot around, taking in my surroundings. I feel oddly welcome in the mix of traffic and people hurriedly trying to get to their destinations on foot. After a full minute and a half of taking in Brooklyn, I turn around and pull open one of the doors. Stepping into the building, I find myself greeted by a rush of warm air, a shock to my senses after standing outside in the cold December air. I lug my suitcase behind me as I walk towards the elevator and press the "Up" button. The doors open almost immediately, and I shuffle inside the elevator car, eager to get up to my apartment and to put on a fresh, warm change of clothes. I lean against the rail as the doors slide shut, my eyes on the digital floor number. They change every few seconds until they change to 5, where the elevator stops and the doors slide open smoothly.

I pull my suitcase towards my apartment, my phone in my hand as I check notifications on my various social outlets. I hear a cough and a door shut, and I look up right before I crash into someone, knocking me to the ground. My suitcase manages to pop open as it knocks sideways, my clothes spilling out of it. I quickly grab all my belongings, taking them in one arm and sighing to myself.

The person I knocked into holds out their hand, and I take it gratefully, mumbling many apologies.

"I'm so sorry, are you alright?" The person says, with a voice I find vaguely familiar, although I can't place where I know it from.

I finally manage to look up, unable to hide from my face the humiliation of meeting a new neighbour through a head-on collision.

"I'm fine, don't worry abo-" I stop short, the man's face registering immediately. I stare at him, taking in his raven hair and café au lait eyes. His eyebrows crease the moment our eyes meet, and it becomes clear he recognises me as well.

"Corinne?"

"George."

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This was so bad I'm so sorry??????? I haven't done any creative writing in a year and a half so I'm super rusty yikes.

Song - Forget It (Getter feat. Oliver Tree)