Flooded Emotions
Marco’s Point of View
The basement apartment smelled faintly of fresh paint and mildew, the kind of scent that clung to the walls of a place left unoccupied for too long. A single worn-out couch sat against the far wall, flanked by a small table with a chipped edge. The landlord in me knew the place needed work—a new coat of paint, a proper cleaning—but tonight, it was a sanctuary.
My mother and grandmother thought I was here late to finish painting and get it ready for the next tenant. I let them believe it. The truth was a far cry from their expectations.
When Isla walked in, the space felt even smaller. Her presence was magnetic, a pull I couldn’t resist no matter how hard I tried. But tonight, there was something different about her. She stood just inside the doorw
