Truly Madly Ghostly

Chapter Seven : Sleepless Nights

"Are you going somewhere?"

As Alex asked breaking the silence, Charlotte blinked and worked hard in gulping down the embarrassment and pinch of hurt that came from his blatant refusal of her even touching him.

"Ah... I thought to take a walk around the area, to the park mainly," she replied, smoothing her hands down her jacket just to keep them busy and to recover some poise.

"Char...," he started with an indulging tone, but she cut in hurriedly.

"I better be on my way then." She didn't forget putting on a bright effort of a smile with the hope to not appear as a looser along the way.

His pity was the last thing she wished for.

It was a miniscule matter anyway—she told herself.

But was it really? Charlotte wondered, closing the balcony door, avoiding to look at Alex as he began backtracking towards the railing.

Now placing her palm against the firm wooden barrier between them, she felt a stout pinch of discomfort within her chest. It was unknown since when exactly his presence had begun to feel so soothing and the thought of his absence—daunting.

The magnetic force that pulled her towards him couldn't be denied. And the more time they spent with one another, she realized the more that force—the pull had grown, bit by bit, with every encounter.

"It's raining outside," The night guard pointed out to her when she came downstairs.

Charlotte had noticed the drizzling right after stepping out the elevator, but still she kept on moving forward. She was frustrated, alright, but at the same time she also felt a pull towards the slow dribble.

There is just something about rain.

It was a given that Charlotte's plan was ruined. For going back to collect her umbrella at the back of her closet—inside a pile of not yet sorted out stuff, would be undoubtedly a time consuming thing to do at the moment. And she didn't fancy going on a walk while it was this freezing and with the sky weeping down upon her.

"I'm Charlotte, by the way. What's your name?" Conversationally, she asked the guard who now stood watching outside as well.

"Carlos."

By the way he stood and gazed into the distance, she guessed he was in the middle of imagining up a world of his own. There was an obvious depth in him. And Charlotte wasn't surprised about it.

Outstanding thoughts and possibilities emerge from people who sleep a lot, same is the case with the insomniac ones as well. Normal sleeping habit mostly hints at an equally normal mind while great talent almost entirely comes from oddity.

A couple minutes later Charlotte said goodnight to Carlos who was in the middle of going back to sleep perched in on his stool.

She turned around and backtracked to her apartment.

That night there was no chill inside her bedroom, no sensation of an unexpected presence. The balcony door stayed locked the whole night. However, it was the exact opposite of a goodnight's sleep that Charlotte got.

She tossed and turned relentlessly from fitful nightmares every time she drifted off to sleep.

Those nightmares consisted of dark eyes, husky voice and tantalizing smiles—she found herself never being able to reach the owner of them. The fierce pull towards him only made her every attempt unbearably painful and, in the end, she would find herself gasping awake, sweaty and panting for breath. The sadness she felt, although illogical but felt too real.