The Invisibility of Comfort

I am alone in an apartment that is not mine. There are no windows, but a single door leads into a lobby. There are people about, but I do not notice them. I hold my hand over my mouth to feel the coolness of my fingers as if the air were not enough. A man comes from a hidden room and approaches me. He is a stranger. He takes a small key from his pocket and offers it to me for safekeeping.

I leave the apartment and walk into the empty, darkened lobby. I stand next to an open door with its light on. The sound of footsteps echoes in the hall beyond, growing louder, but I do not move or look up. The footsteps stop, a hand reaches out and opens the door slightly.

I hold the key, warm against my skin.