This is a taster of something bigger, a man seeking to clear his innocence, who doesn't know what happened. The focaliser will probably change as the story goes on.
Nothing struck me as strange as I entered my apartment – the alarm on the wall beeped and flashed in the shadows, and my accustomed fingers entered the code without needing to see the keypad. The hall was exactly as I remembered it before....before this evening, with one coat hung precariously over the banister and general detritus scattered on the narrow green carpet. I could see my unopened mail, piles of shoes without a partner, even a discarded umbrella from some forgotten rainy day. The kitchen beyond was fine as well, I could see from here; a breath I didn’t know I had been holding was let out in a whoosh. At least I hadn’t trashed my own house.
Sitting under the bright canopy of lights with a cup of coffee in my hand and the cool steel counter against my back, I couldn’t help but feel ashamed of myself for my earlier behaviour – it wasn’t like me to lose it that easily. And in front of my younger brother too! To have this absence that I couldn’t remember unsettled me.
The clock display on the oven reminded me time was passing, and that passing meant something again. Work tomorrow was first priority. Interrogation of what happened this evening later. Bed now.
The living room window was open. That was wrong.