It's depressing, honestly, the idea that all this shit just got abandoned. Not because I care about the stuff, I don't know what most of it is in the darkness, but someone made it. Someone worked hard on it all and lived here, and then one day, they just up and left. Vanished into thin air.

There's a moment where I feel something tug sharp and hard at my heart. I did the same, too. I just wound up here.

If there's something guaranteed to get my mind off that, though, it's the faint graze of her fingertips as she tugs at my sleeve, fixing it or something, I don't know what. The door for the elevator's open and it doesn't have far to rise, but I don't think about it. She touches me and I forget to think, I just lean in and kiss her again, forgetting about the kind of invisible barrier that's been up ever since she put her clothes back on, too. It occurs to me too late that walking her back to her place means knowing where she lives, wanting to come in with her, things that probably shouldn't happen, because this isn't exactly anonymous, but I doubt she wants me tagging around after her either.