Who’s there? A few minutes after Nook’s last email to me, wondering if I would let her in when she knocked, there was, indeed, a soft knocking at the door.
My heart leapt.
Pulse increased to the rate of Chihuahua on crystal meth.
She was here. Well, someone was here. Was it her? Was it really Nook? Or was it The Complication? Was she followed and I was about to be confronted by a fist? Would she turn and run away? Would she come in the room?
All of these thoughts, and many more, rushed through my head. The time it took me to go from recognition of knock to get to the door was mere seconds, but so many things went rushing by.
It was only a couple of metres from the desk I was sitting at to the door of the suite. I am pretty sure I hovered the entire distance down the hallway.
I quickly checked myself in the mirror. Okay, so, the raw material isn’t that great to start with, but, I didn’t appear to have anything dangling from my face, nor wedged in my teeth, nor growing out of the middle of my forehead. I removed my glasses, ran my hand over my face, and headed to the door.
There was a peephole. Should I use it? Should I see who was outside the door, or should I just open it and see what happens, what fate has brought to me?
I didn’t look.
I grabbed the handle.