The apartment lay in silence before her. Walking through the corridor, she first notices how orderly everything was. Nothing was obstructing her way, no scattered shoes, no rug, no cupboard. The air was fresh and clean, no lingering scents of food or perfume. Different from how she had imagined a place would smell like, with its owner gone for over a week.
Stepping into the next room, the whole apartment opened up before her. To the left she found the kitchen and a dining table adjacent, while on her right side lay what appeared to be her home office. Looking at the neat and tidy arrangement of the furniture, and the state everything was in, only one term came to mind. Sterile.
May's eyes roamed over walls and shelves, devoid of any personal touches. No framed family pictures, no artwork. Everything was positioned in a perfect angle, not a single object out of place.
She moved further into the room, her footsteps echoing in the silence. Letting her fingers tentatively glide over the couch and table she found that not a speck of dust had gathered. Someone had been here recently, maintaining the space with meticulous care.
May's brow furrowed as she considered the implications. Her sister had mentioned how she didn't like strangers entering her apartment. Then it was highly unlikely for her to have hired external cleaners. Then who had stepped inside and taken care of everything? Whom would she trust enough to give them access?
Walking further she found a door leading to her bedroom and an adjacent bathroom. Even here, everything was perfectly arranged. May was particularly curious about the bathroom. It would tell a lot about a person, what kind of shampoo they used, with medication they took, but only empty cupboards awaited her. This wasn't normal. Even her toothbrush was nowhere in sight.
Had someone removed all her personal items? For what reason?
Confused and disappointed May's heart sank. She had hoped that being in her own space would spark some sense of recognition, some flicker of memory. Instead, she felt like a stranger in her own home. Nothing here seemed to reflect a personality. Instead of answers she was only left with more questions.
Walking back she approached the home office, her steps now more urgent. At least here she should find something, anything. Even if it didn't give her any key on her personal life, surely there would be something connected to her work life.
The desk was bare except for a sleek laptop. May hesitated, then gently lifted the lid. The screen flickered to life, revealing an input field. May stared at the blinking cursor, demanding for her to enter a password.
Of course…
She closed her eyes, willing her mind to conjure up something, anything.
Nothing came.
Sighing, May leaned back in the chair, its leather cool against her skin. She then grabbed for the bag carrying her few belongings, which she had taken with her from the hospital. Inside she found her wallet, as well as her cellphone. Of course in the week that had passed by, the phone`s battery had turned empty. First she would need to charge it, before trying her luck. Below the desk, she found a corresponding charging cable, plugging it in.
Then she turned her attention to her wallet. Inside, she found her ID and a driver's license with her photo, confirming her identity. But as she flipped through the contents, she realized that everything else was just as impersonal as the apartment. There were no loyalty cards, no receipts, not even a single photograph tucked away. What did she did find though was some cash as well as a shiny black credit card. But without a PIN it would be useless to her.
As she contemplated this, a soft chime from her phone indicated it had gathered enough charge to power on. May reached for it eagerly, hoping it would provide some answers. Yet, she was disappointed again. Even her phone was securely logged with a PIN. Why didn't she activate face recognition or her fingerprint? Then she wouldn't be in such a dilemma.
Putting the cellphone besides the laptop, her gaze drifted to the drawers beneath the desk. She pulled them open one by one, finding them all empty save for the last. Surprised she grasped the single white envelope laying inside.
With trembling hands, she picked it up. It was addressed simply to "M." Her initial? She turned it over, noting it was unsealed. Inside lay a single piece of paper. With her heart hammering she folded it open to find only a single sentence printed in its middle.
"Don't trust A."
She shuddered, feeling a cold sweat creep down her back. Who was "A."? And why should she not trust them? A million thoughts raced through her head as she tried to make sense of the ominous warning.
She flipped the note over a few times, searching for any other writings, but it was empty save for this three words.
Frustrated, May flung the letter on the desk.
Why couldn't the person who left this note be more specific? Was ink so expensive that a few extra sentences were too much to ask? The cryptic message left her with more questions than answers. If only the envelope had contained the passwords to her phone and laptop instead—that would have been far more useful. What was she supposed to do with such vague information?
She sighed lying her head on her forearms. "What now?"
A man's voice suddenly cut through the silence "Welcome back, M."