love, ally.

the house was quiet, save for the meandering rhythm of rain outdoors. he shut the door behind him and removed his coat, folding it over the chair by the shoerack. his legs were aching from the climb upstairs. the building was eight floors high and did not have an elevator.

he stepped into the study and saw that the large window by the desk was open. streams of water swirled into the room and formed little droplets on the photo frames and ornaments behind the table. the parquet flooring by the window was wet and some of the rainwater had begun to seep under a small, blue rug, staining one corner of it a darker shade.

he kept his feet on the drier side of the rug, leaned over and shut the window with one, outstretched hand. he took out his handkerchief and briefly smothered his face, before dutifully returning it to his trouser pocket.

a book lay closed on its front cover on the desk, with a small piece of paper untidily tucked between the pages. slipping the piece of paper out of the book and inspecting it, he recognised it as being from the memo pad that was in the kitchen. the paper had been folded in half.

in it was a note from her, written, as always, with a characteristic flourish. it read :

went down to get some fresh air.

didn't use the stairs this time.

love, ally.