As soon as I had found the key to Shaun’s, placed under a bench outside her flat, I breathed a sigh of relief and felt a wave of thankfulness sweep over me.
The non-stop travel from America and the loss of my night and sleep had started to wear on me and all I wanted to do was close my eyes and just be.
But it didn’t last long. No sooner had I begun to relax there was a bang on the door.
Ignore it, I thought. You don’t live here. Don’t open the door.
Then, another knock.
OK. Ask who it is.
I stubbornly got up and walked to the door.
“Who is it?”
“It’s Tim,” said a heavily accented Australian from behind the bright blue painted door.
Right. That meant nothing to me.
I figured if he said his name, he must have known the people living there, so I popped the door ajar and poked my tired head out.
“Oh right, hey there, you must be Shaun’s friend.”
I opened the door the rest of the way.
“I’ve just come to pick up my mail, I used to live here.”
I let him in, retreating back to my couch.
“So, where ya’ been?”
Thus, our conversation began, and the sleep I was so looking forward to quickly slipped through my fingers.