As soon as Tommy got into the apartment, he rolled his eyes heavenward, exasperated and grumbled at the creaky stairs, shaking his head in disgust.
"Lord have mercy! Ah'm so tired of this place. Or is it jus' 'cause I ain't been 'round here in... hours on end?" he scratched his head, thinking.
Holding the bag safely to his chest, hugging it tightly like a security blanket, he climbed the stairs slowly and carefully, his eyes fixed on the door to his room, 203.
He leisurely placed his hand in his pocket to take out his key, but then felt nothing in there. "Huh?" he furrowed his brow, confusion etched on his face.
"Where's my key at?" he patted down his other pockets, growing anxious, and muttered to himself. He placed his hand in the other pocket, and then it dawned on him. He didn't even know where his key was.
Benjamin had rushed him out of the house against his will, and he didn't even know whether the key...
