RESEARCH ( barry berkman.. ) ✔

o11. something bad..

"Can I help you?"

Adelaide waited for the man's comical reaction of blinking confused, looking at her door than laughing, "Damn it, I think I just got the wrong address, because you surely don't look like my bingo partner..."

She forced herself to laugh along, uncertainly at least until the paranoia died away. Her door was not open wide, but this old man seemed confused, constantly looking around. "That's okay...," Adelaide nodded, yet he did not leave just yet, getting closer with one step.

He pointed with his right hand at her and tilted his head, "But don't I know you?"

Adelaide was quick to assume the best for once and just consider this stranger a senile man who was having a hard time, noticing how his clothes looked rather ragged, dimly colored. She shook her head, firmly certain she has never met him before; Adelaide was sure she would have remembered an old man with such a curious scar with definitely the best sort of story behind it.

"No, I know you, I... You're that writer, right?" His face lit up, gesturing with his right hand, showing his slow process of thought topped with smiles. "Grayson!" He finally exclaimed her name. "I loved that book you wrote... the first poetry book, 'Meadow', right?"

The coincidence got to big and the hair on the back of Adelaide's neck stood up as cautious as her concentration to not visibly look shocked. Growing paler was what was out of her control though. No one ever liked her books and that red flag was only getting more visible when she considered how improbable the odds of her only fan accidentally knocking on her door. Who even wants to play bingo this late at night anyway?

One of her worst realizations though was that she had nothing to defend herself with close by if it came down to it. Since time was starting to dilate and contract when under stress, Adelaide did not even have the certainty Barry would show up in time to stop anything bad. Her hand tightened on the doorknob, arm gently flexing, ready to slam the door closed on this old man whose wrinkles suddenly looked threatening.

"I am sure your bingo partner wouldn't want to wait on you too much, sir," Adelaide used ever ounce of appealing obedience to smile faintly, but innocently kind, as if her mind wasn't trying to calculate how much strength it will take her to take this quite solid man down. "But it has been a pleasure to meet you-"

The man seemed to have read nothing off her behavior, for he continued to be careless and carefree through small chuckles. "No autograph?" he teased, testing a sarcasm-filled joke he immediately laughed off. He caused her distress and if her expressions were more distinguishable, then the old man rejoiced in it. "Have a wonderful night, ma'am. I am so glad to have met you."

"You too," Adelaide mumbled the fakest kindness in return. As soon as the old man turned towards the exit and made one step away, back down the hall, she slammed the door and locked it. 

Adelaide stepped back, her right hand left shaking in the space between her and the door. There were no steps for her ears to hear but the suffocating pending ringing of numbness, washing her in a cold sweat she has previously held back. As soon as she breathed it all out, both her hands came on top of her knees, leaning her body forward.

Perhaps an action-oriented life had gained her the perk of constant paranoia, even around well-meant people. Her overthinking on the situation seemed puerile already, knowing there was almost no proof for her to throw such tags on a simple person. Her senses regained with the sounds of heavy, running steps on the hall. Adelaide took another step back from the door when a pounding knocked through on her door.

The concern which made her hesitate was that there was no way for her to know who was on the other side, noting the fact that she had no door visor. What was her certainty that the weird old man didn't return with more preparation after seeing how gullible she was? The knock softened the second time, though still insistent.