On Running

The robust landlady in the blue apron says that she hasn't been in for a week now. No one has seen her. The landlady seems fond of talking to strangers, treating them as great friends who she has had over for barbecue parties. She, on the other hand, did not seem to have had any friends. For someone her age, the landlady relays, it is odd that I have never noticed her asking a friend or two over. No male companions, either. It is a wonder to know that she has a sister who is now looking for her. I figured that she lived alone, without family or anything. It was with the way she dressed. I read people well, you know.

She was a good tenant, though. Never bothered me with issues about non-existent rats and pest problems. When she played her music, (she liked classical music, I remember) it was always toned down so low that you had to strain to hear it. Not that I'd ever spy on my tenants. I believe in the sacredness of your own space, if you know what I mean.

My daughter, she talked with her once. Said it was during that night that she was locked out and she seemed to have left her key. She seemed normal enough, says my daughter. Her voice seemed rather uncertain though, as if she's not used to talking that much.

My daughter, she told me (she tells me everything, by the way, that sweet kid) that she accompanied her to her room because that was the night that we had that blackout because of the storm the night before. She went in the girl's room. The girl, it seems, liked books. And candles. It seems that her whole room had a candle in every nook. Maybe later, you could take a peek and see for yourself.

She lit some candles so that she could change her clothes. It was still raining a bit, see. I don't know why she asked my daughter to stay. My daughter, she's a stickler for good manners so I'm sure that she didn't just sit there without being asked first.

While she was in the makeshift dressing room of hers (my daughter, she says that there were embroided peacocks on the partition cloth. you could never tell that she was vain. it's because of the way she dressed.)

Of course, my daughter, she got bored. So she let her eyes roam over the boxes that she found stacked on the foot of the bed. Yes, she was sitting on the bed. It wasn't a real bed, really. More like a futon, she says. The boxes were very plain. My daughter, she takes my best interest at heart, you know. That's why she looked in those boxes in the first place - so that she could find out if that girl was trustworthy or not.

So she rummaged quietly though the boxes. She was careful, mind you, so the girl wouldn't get any ideas and think that she was a-stealing something. The boxes... they held trinkets. On each box, a name was written. I guess they were, well, labeled. The names were all boys names. My daughter, she's a bit of a romantic. Says that they were probably names of the boys the girl loved. Or vice versa. In this crazy world, who knows?

In one box, there were chocolate wrappers and there were hearts drawn all over them. Then, there was an empty plastic bag that used to hold strawberries. My daughter knew they were strawberries because the container smelled so strongly of them. Then there was a piece of string. There was also a brown parcel which smelled of cinnamon.

In the next box, there were slips of paper. Unused vouchers, they seemed. Then, there was a man's slipper which had seen better days. There were also the remains of a yellow candle then a baby's blanket.

The third box held letters. My daughter says some letters were scented, others smelled of coffee. The letters were all written by one person. Adrian, she says the name was. There was also small vial in it labeled TEARS. Very strange, if you ask me.

The fourth box (and mind you, this is the last box that she managed to look in) contained a couple of charm bracelets (two, three? i'm an old lady, i can't remember every detail, see). It also had an old champagne label (an expensive kind, at that). It had a man's bow tie in it and a small tiara that sparkled, even in the darkness.

The girl finished dressing and went out of the peacock dressing room and thanked my daughter. She says though, that when she was leaving, the girl held her hand and kissed it. Like she was apologizing for something. Very strange, if you ask me.

So if you care to, come and take a look at her room. Maybe you can go over some of her things and put them in for inspection. I think, though, that she just went away for awhile. Where else can she go? I'm right, you know. I always am. As I've said, she doesn't look like she's the kind of girl who can go places. I read people well, you know.

My son? Yes, I have one. That boy gives me headaches and heartaches all around. Always alone and quiet.

Plays his flute at night and that's it. No ambition, no anything. Because you asked, I remembered that I need to go to church after our little chat to pray for my boy's poor soul.

When the landlady, opened the door, the room was empty. It looks like it hasn't been lived in for months. There is no sign of the girl, nor are there any boxes stacked around any futon.

They only found one box sitting solemnly in one of the dimmer corners of the vacant room. The inspector lifted the lid. In it was a flute.