#graham 04

The moment he’d discovered exactly who had moved into one of the building A seventh floor penthouses, Gray’d been out the door, cereal left on the kitchen counter half eaten. He’d barely had time to say two words about where he was going to his roommate, hadn’t even put on shoes, sprinting in sweats and an old t-shirt along the grounds of the complex. The lift door was met by his hands onto its surface to keep himself from running smack into it, and all his energy and excitement surged into a hand that started pounding the call button.

There was only one person to date that could incite such excitement in him, a person he’d unfortunately had to say goodbye to last year. You’d think, in the age of technology, it wouldn’t be that big a deal – distance, in this day and age, was but a number – but Gray had always felt amputated by technology. It was good, absolutely, and it helped him keep in touch with people he otherwise wouldn’t have been able to, but he couldn’t hug them, or kiss them, or just sit with them and drink beer with them. For all the blessed good technology did, there were some things that distance still kept from him.

The lift dinged and he stepped in, slamming the button with the ‘7′ on it with as much fervency as he’d done the call button. The ride up felt an eternity and his fingers tapped against his thigh while his eyes were glued to the indicator above the door. Seven whole years had passed, according to Gray, between him getting in the lift and the doors parting again.