an archive

I have to go to a remote living situation with a small insular group and become involved in a terrible unexplained event

On my 21st day without a job, I found a key on my dresser. I did not recognise the key. It had lost its sheen, and a few spots of rust showed along the sides. Below the key, I found a folded page of crisp paper.

9, Babbit St.

The strokes of ink were clean and even, like a machine had handwritten the note.

I searched for the address on Maps, put the key in my free pocket, and headed out after breakfast of two toasts and some orange juice.

The noodle place down the street invited me with its hot, heady flavour. I tried to remember what my balance was, and halfway committed myself to getting a bowl of noddles on the way back.

Sensibility suggested using the subway, but my wallet insisted on walking to the place I had to go to. It took me forty-five minutes of walking just to get there, and I was a sweating mess by the time I was at the stoop.

The key slid in and turned perfectly. On the street, I spotted a couple of hipster-types, and a gaggle of college students with backpacks. A pair of elderly women chatted from neighbouring stoops.

I entered the house.

It was someone’s home, and lived in. I could smell the residue of whoever lived in it, like a temporary ghost. No one was in. I found ripped envelopes that told me who lived here, and framed photographs that told me how they looked. Their kitchen was tidy, but their bed wasn’t made. The bathroom looked ordinary.

I waited for an hour, two hours. The couch was comfy, and the sun crept up through thin curtains, warming up the place in the afternoon.

After I got tired of waiting, I got up and searched the bedroom more thoroughly. There, I found a sports bag in the closet with a wad of cash. I divided the cash between my wallet and free pocket, and then I left the house. I tossed the key casually, like I was disposing of trash. No one spotted me.

After I got back home, I put the money in the dresser, said a quiet prayer, and carried on with my day. For the first time in 21 days, I did not go looking for jobs.

The next day, I found two keys on my dresser, and two addresses beneath them. I read them both and looked them up. They were at the same distance from my place, but different directions.

The handwriting was the same as last time: precise, thin, and even. I smudged the ink under a thumb, just a bit.

After breakfast, I returned to the dresser and tried to pick a destination. I could probably hit both places within the day, if I wanted to. So naturally, I took both keys, and I saved the addresses on my Maps app.

This time, I wouldn’t need to go walking. I didn’t even need to take the subway, I could actually afford a taxi with the money I’d got the day before.

I opened the dresser to pull out my wallet.

The money from yesterday was all gone.

and now mystery! he was so relaxing to draw. u.u