#grimley

Strange answers, but not that he minded. He knew office workers were busy and it was just a quick excuse to make customers search on their own accord. A business strategy, perhaps.

How many times had he heard this answer in a book or craft store, only to go on his own hunt and find twice as much as he originally planned on buying?

Well, as long as no one yelled at him for walking into a place he wasn’t supposed to, John thought it was only half as bad.

He was getting hungry. It’s been probably a few hours since he saw the last employee and he regretted not asking them where the cafeteria was. Although they might just give him the same answers as before.

‘I don’t know where the exit is, John. No, I don’t have a map. I don’t know what time it is. I don’t know the date.’

Hm. He never recalled giving anyone his name.

There was a girl with short brown hair and a thick leather jacket. She didn’t seem like an employee, strolling casually through the hallways.

John’s heart leapt.

Camille, he thought. She must’ve come looking for me after I didn’t show up!

“Camille!” He said loudly.

Camille turned around and studied him. She seemed unimpressed, perhaps mad that he took so long. But before he could come apologize, she told him her name wasn’t Camille and he should leave her alone.

She hurried away before he could retort and left him with a vague sense of unease.

What did that mean?

Was she really this mad at him?

He hurried after her, apologizing several times but when he rounded the corner of where he thought she had gone, the hallway was empty.

A pang of regret echoed in his chest.

Another time he saw a young man, face covered in freckles and wearing a similar jacket that Camille had worn earlier, except it was black and covered in faded white symbols that made no sense.

He was laughing, dark eyes bright and mouth open.

John hurried off before the man noticed him, cold dread chasing down his spine.

Camille was sitting in the employee lounge, sipping black coffee. Its rich smell permeated the room and he couldn’t help but think of high school, when they’d help the elderly Mrs. Angi with her garden and household chores. The mornings were always started off with a big pot of coffee and homemade pastries.

She turned to him when he entered, quietly, hoping she wasn’t still mad at him. But as soon as she saw him, her face lit up in a knowing smile. She had been waiting.

He sat down next to her and hugged her — huh, he had remembered his sister a lot bigger than this. Her long dark hair brushed against his cheeks and he decided he didn’t care what state he found her in.

She poured him a cup, long dark nails clacking against the coffee pot as she picked it up and willfully listened to his apologies and his adventures in trying to find his way back onto the street.

“It’s like a maze in here, I’ll tell you,” John chuckled, warming his hands against the ceramic mug.

“Oh certainly,” She said, and shot him another smile. “One could get lost endlessly if they’re not careful. But at least now we’ve found each other.”

He couldn’t help but think of that young man from before, his laughter and his eyes, how it made him feel like a caged bird in a dark cellar.

Yet Camille wasn’t like him. Even if her voice made him falter a bit, she was still his sister and he loved her no matter what. Even if her eyes didn’t hold those same memories of summer sky blue, or if her smile looked a bit too wolfish, she was still his sister. And he loved her no matter what.