I stood so long at the door of his apartment with no response I began to believe he had no intention of opening the door. I had been told he was there.
That he had nowhere else to go, nowhere he was allowed to go, at least not yet, unaccompanied.
I had a sense he was watching me out the peephole which was at eye level. Trying to decide, no doubt, whether he wished to be bothered by an elderly version of his first officer.
The door finally opened a crack, just when I had considered turning away and leaving. A huff of breath.
“It’s you.” The words came out deep and raspy, his voice perhaps ill-used.
Since it was obvious it was myself, I knew no logical response to that and so left it unanswered.
He opened it just wide enough to allow me entry. “Come in then.”
Not the warmest welcome I’d ever had but acceptable.
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