09 | the artist

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The elevator door opens, and my eyes travel around the corridor of the apartment

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The elevator door opens, and my eyes travel around the corridor of the apartment. It's nothing fancy or new or extravagant. In fact, the building is old and looks like something that can be afforded by the lower class. I can even see a part of the wallpaper unglued from the wall, and it's apparent that none of the staff cares to fix that.

Cal stops as we reach the door at the end of the hallway. While he's about to unlock it, the door next to his apartment opens, revealing a man with grey hair.

His neighbor.

The man looks old, but not too old. Somewhere in his 50s, I suppose. He sees Cal, and a big smile spreads across his face. "Morning, Cal." His voice is hoarse as he greets the young man in front of him.

His eyes land on me, so I nod politely and return his warm smile.

"Morning, Mr. Lee," Cal says. "Strolling around the park again today?"

Mr. Lee laughs, putting his cap on. "How would an old man like me survive without rays of the morning sun? I need fresh air more than anything." With that said, he waves goodbye, and I follow Cal, walking into his apartment.

I step into the place. He closes the door behind me while I take time scanning the surrounding. It's an apartment with two bedrooms, equipped with a small kitchen and another space with a couch, a coffee table, and a TV hung on the wall.

The window overlooks the city, and next to it is a balcony.

The place is nothing spacious, but somehow, it feels warm. I spot a cozy blanket draped on the couch and snacks lying on the coffee table, which makes me picture Jasmine curling there, watching her favorite Disney movie with her brother.

"Make yourself at home." Cal smirks. "What would you like to drink?"

I stare at him in amusement, enjoying his hospitality. "Anything cold," I say, strolling around the place.

My eyes fall on the books scattered on the coffee table along with the bags of chips, and a smile touches my lips. They're Jasmine's homework. Does he usually help his sister solving her math problem too?

"Found anything you like?" Cal's voice startles me. He walks from the kitchen with a glass of orange squash and hands it to me.

I mouth a 'thank you' and takes a gulp of the drink. The cool substance runs down my throat, and a sigh of satisfaction leaves my mouth.

"Something is missing, though." I smile at him playfully, and he raises an eyebrow. "Your guitar."

Cal chuckles, rolling his eyes. He walks off, telling me to follow suit. I place my drink on the coffee table and walk behind him.

We enter one of the bedrooms. It's definitely his room, proven by a black and white photo frame of his favorite rockband hung on the wall, a set of music notes scattered on the bed, and his black acoustic guitar placed at the corner of the room.

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