The next morning arrived with an overcast sky, casting a dull light across the apartment.
My father was already awake, shuffling around the kitchen, a familiar routine that provided comfort.
He didn’t know about the key, and I intended to keep it that way.
Today, I had to face the building manager.
Would he arrive on time, or would this be another delay?
As the minutes passed, I found myself glancing at the door, the key still hanging there.
Each look was a reminder of the choice I made, one that felt more significant with each passing moment.
The maintenance notice had promised improvements, yet nothing had changed.
The building remained as it had always been, a place of broken promises.
My thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door, sharp and unexpected.
