Saturday, 17 June 2006

Home, sweet...

It was very weird coming back to my flat. As had I been away for months, and yet it was a mere three weeks. Moreover, my flatmate had both sets of keys (as she was terrified of losing one). I arrived at 11.30 pm and had to ring my own doorbell, which was weird in istelf.

And the doorbell didn't work, all of a sudden.


Me knocking. Not too hard, in order not to bother neighbours. I can't help being considerate on such things, though others would just talk and shout in the stairs. Not me.

And no answer. Knock again. No answer. Try bell again. Nothing. Knock. No. Could she have gone out? Not her style... during five months of traineeship ― that's how I know her; I was her supervisor ― she did not go to one trainees' party.

So I call my home phone on my mobile. After a couple of rings, I hear my own voice on the ansaphone. Hang up. Wake up, goddammit. If you're home and have not been kidnapped by aliens or something.

Knock-knock-knock-KNOCK...!!! Clip-clap-clip-clap... finally I hear footsteps. A voice silently and kinda anxiously asking through the door: 'Bjørn-e'? (yes, she speaks to me in French...)

'Oui...' Open flatmate. Enter Bjørn with suitcases. Home, sweet... er, is this how it looks? :)

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