"I live at the end of a five and half minute hallway. But as far as I can see, you are still miles from me, in your doorway."
It was the third time this week the mail had been dropped off in the wrong box. He was pretty sure that it was fate just taunting him at this point. Phil Coulson looked down the dimly lit hallway. The olive green paint was peeling on most of the edges. He was surprised it was still there at all. It hadn't been touched up in over two decades. The worn carpet was patchy at best in most areas. The doors to the individual apartments had stickers for numbers and old locks that barely sufficed to keep out anyone.
But locks weren't needed on Melinda May's door. Phil couldn't bring himself to step inside that doorway even if she'd offer a common hospitality.
They were only two doors apart but that walk down the hallway was like crossing the Serengeti. He clutched the bills in his hand that had her name on them. If he remembered correctly, she was at work right now. Slowly, he took a step, his feet like lead weights. What was only a few seconds seemed like hours as he stood before her door and knelt down, carefully slipping in the mail under her door.
He almost tumbled over as her door opened.
Melinda grinned. "Hey, Phil."
He cleared his throat as he stood. "Sorry. Didn't want to disturb you." He sheepishly held up the mail. "Benny got the wrong box again."
She grinned at him, her slender fingers brushing his some as she took it. "Thank you."
Phil had to take in a breath. Her skin was so soft. He couldn't believe she was just a bartender. She moved with much more grace and beauty.
"You okay?"
He blinked, his cheeks tinging pink. "Yeah. Just… tired." He'd worked overtime at the security desk. It wasn't exciting, but it was money.
Melinda nodded. "You've been coming home later." She'd noticed. Him. She'd known his schedule.
"Oh, uh, well, yeah." He scratched the back of his neck.
She stepped aside. "You wanna come in for some muffins?"
He chewed his lip a little. She was dressed in snug jeans and a tight tank top that allowed him to see the definition of her muscles and curves. He'd lived there over a year and they'd never crossed the doorway. "I… should rest."
She gave a nod and a slight grin. "Well, thanks for the mail." She smiled and slowly shut the door, leaving him there in the hall.
"You can think of it like this: when you can't resist I'm in your hallway standing on a just when I think I find the trick I'm tumbling like an echo."