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The Apartment #115


Ryland made sure the others were calm, seated again around his table. They sat in silence, with eyes that looked betrayed, trying to grip onto the intangible, trying to make sense of an experience that may or may not have happened.
Suddenly, Tisha busied herself: from Ryland's kitchen came the sound of cups and mugs; a kettle boiling; a fridge door opening and closing.
Ordinary sounds, that tried to comfort. And somehow, in a way, succeeded. Domestic sounds, that tried to eliminate the fear of what had happened. But failed.
Harry Danes' smile returned.
"I'd love a cuppa!" he said.

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