Miles' heart pounded as he knocked on the door. It had been a while since Maya had left that message on his machine, and he hoped she was still willing to try to make things work. He had debated long and hard about whether to do this at all. What if things didn't work out again, and he was left with no hope at all that the right woman was out there somewhere? At least he could have hung on to that illusion if he had never gone back. But here he was, and he had already knocked. There was no turning back now.
The door opened, and Miles shut his eyes. "Hello, Maya," he began. "Excuse me?" The voice was not the one he was expecting. Miles opened his eyes and saw nothing ahead of him. Then he looked down. An old woman sat in front of him in a wheelchair. For a second he couldn't think of a word to say. "Did you want something?" the woman asked. He stuttered, "Um, uh, do you live here?" "Yes," she said. "By yourself?" "Yes, what is this about?"
Miles struggled to remain calm. "The woman who lived here before, did you meet her?" "Oh yes, lovely young thing. Are you looking for her?" "Actually, I am. Did she happen to tell you where she was going?" The old woman looked apologetic. "I'm sorry, no. Now that I think of it, she did have an odd look in her eyes when I spoke to her. Kind of regretful, though with a bit of anger as well." Miles blinked away tears. "Well, I know this is a long shot, but if you ever see her again, call me, will you?" He wrote down his number and gave it to her. The woman backed up and closed the door.
As soon as he was alone again, Miles let the tears flow a little more freely. He stumbled down the stairs and back to his car. Once inside, however, he was freely to let himself go. He openly wept for a full minute, feeling the last ray of hope being extinguished. He screamed obscenities to no one. "FUCK!" Getting no satisfaction, he tried it again. "FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!" Letting off the steam still didn't help. He was in the same position as before: alone.
IIIIIIII
Don't worry, this isn't the end!