What. The. Fuck.
I'm speeding along the road on my motorbike. The usually minuscule, ten minute drive from mine to Simon's apartment seems to stretch on for hours.
I realise that I didn't even say anything to her.
I just, hung up.
I visually conjure up the surroundings of my apartment, thinking if I even placed the phone back in its receiver.
Whatever.
Was I just hallucinating? But I could recognise that voice from anywhere. After all, the closest magickal relations I have in this entire world consist of three people, and two of them live together in the one apartment, and it wasn't them.
Not that I'm close with her. I just was forced to spend the majority of my schooling life pretending to be infatuated with her just to make Simon's life a tad more miserable (oh those were the days). It'd be hard not to recognise that voice.
Nearly there now. I'm running up the stairs. Damn these stairs. Why Bunce and Simon thought an apartment on the fifth floor with no elevator was a good idea I will never understand.
Ten more. Six more. Two.
I hesitate before knocking on the door.
And then I hear voices inside.
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