It was him, the building manager, finally here to inspect.
My heart pounded as I approached the door, unsure of how this encounter would unfold.
Would he notice the key?
Would he care?
The door opened to reveal his familiar, disinterested expression.
“Morning,” he said, barely meeting my eyes.
I stepped aside, allowing him to enter, the key still in the lock, a silent testament to my resolve.
His inspection was brief, cursory, as if he had somewhere more important to be.
“Any issues?” he asked, his tone flat.
I hesitated, the words forming in my mind, unsure if they would make any difference.
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