The moment they enter his apartment, Sam's face gets hit with a beautiful warmth, but as soon as she looks around, she realizes that the apartment seems anything but warm.
There are no pictures, no plants, nothing to decorate the interior. The carpet and the pillows on the couch seem to be the only thing that dampens the voice of Sam's uncle, which echos through the room, telling her to close the door behind her.
She moved to the side and closed the door behind herself. She walks after her uncle, who seems to be making himself more comfortable by taking off his jacket and taking out a bottle full of whiskey.
Looking at him, she asks herself why he is still single. Though he is a bit older, he is in great shape, has the face of a model, and seems to be a calm, nice guy.
It's honestly hard to believe that he does not have anybody, she thinks to herself.
Sam walks towards the couch where her uncle has sat down, placing her bag next to it.
"Where is the bathroom?" She asks, watching him losing up his tie while taking a sip of the whiskey.
"Down the hall and the second door on the right." He answers calmly. She nods and walks to the hallway, which is connected to the living room.
Finally arriving at the bathroom, she looks around, unsurprised about how clean everything is. The bathroom walls are black, just like the sinks and the drawer, letting the white shower and toilet stick out.
She walks to the sink and starts washing her hands, noticing something odd in the process. The frame in front of her isn't carrying a mirror how she expected it. No, it was just glass—a window with a view of the city.
Wondering about that, she finishes up, dries her hands, and walks back outside to her uncle, who sits on his couch. The whiskey bottle is slightly emptier than before, the glass lifted to his lips, letting her hear his groan as he swallows the burning liquid.
She sits down next to him and takes a deep breath while looking at the tv, also noticing that it's not plugged in.
"Don't you watch TV?" Sam asks and shifts in her position, kicking the carpet with her feet.
"Meh. TV isn't what it used to be. Instead of global warming, cooking shows, and football, you only see people's craziness all over the news. I'm not eager to know what's going on in the world."
"That's true... I always wonder when all this craziness started."
After that sentence, they both get back to being silent, the room filled with the noises of the wind that is howling outside their walls which keep them safe from the cold.
Unable to bear this awkward tension, Sam looks around and sees a book on the table with nothing but a black cover, catching her attention.
"What are you reading?" She asks lightly, drawing her uncle's attention straight to the book, making him jump a little as if he has seen a ghost.
"Oh, eh. Nothing special!"
He reaches over and grabs the book fast out of her hand, startling her a little bit as a tiny piece of paper falls out from between the pages. She picks it up and is just about to hand it to her uncle when the words on it seem to be familiar to her.
"The world was not ready for the chaos ahead of them, and the chaos was not prepared for... me to control it-"
The little thing gets ripped away from her hand, her uncle putting it back between the pages.
"What was that??"
"That was nothing. Just some literature stuff I've been reading."
"I saw those words before. They are all over the city. I see them on some graffiti walls. But that one was different-"
"It's nothing, Sam."
"Wait... please don't tell me you're one of them! Don't tell me you are also obsessed with this madness..." She looks at her uncle in disbelief as he takes a deep breath trying to find the right words to put his thoughts together.
"It's not like that."
"Then please explain it! Because right now, it seems like you are into that stupid criminal just like half of the city! And why does yours sound different? The other writings say that the chaos wasn't ready for him, while yours says it wasn't ready for me. The hell is the deal with that?"
"Sam, watch your language. I'm telling you, it's not like that." He looks down at the book and pulls out the little piece of paper with the writing on it.
"The reason I have this is that... it's the original writing. This paper is original. The first time those words have been written down."
"I don't understand."
He sighs and leans back while taking a sip of his whiskey.
"Listen... I know you might think you want to hear this. But you don't. You're not ready yet."
"Uncle, please tell me... Or I might have to think the worst. Because if you're really one of those lunatics who run around in the city and spread terror then," she shifts uncomfortably in her seat, grabbing the rim of her shirt tightly, "Then I don't know if I can stay here."
"Alright. I don't want you to think that, of course. I am going to tell you the reason behind this. But you have to promise me that you'll let me finish."
He puts his hand on her shoulder and gently leans her back down on the couch, motioning her to relax. Sam removes his hand from her shoulder and crosses her arms, ready to listen to whatever he has to tell her. At least a part of her was glad.
The other part was too scared to listen to what he has to say. What if it will change the image Sam got of him? What if her uncle is one of those mad activists?