The click of the door of Zoey’s apartment reverberated in Roland's head. It went on over and over again like an unending siren.
As he walked the hallway, he heard it. While having dinner it was louder, and even now on his bed, about taking a nap it became worse.
Her every word was like a dart to his soul, piercing, twisting, and boring a hole through him.
“How could she,” Roland muttered, staring up to the ceiling. “How could she say that to me?”
His fingers folded at his sides, drenched in thoughts when a sudden sound of door bell ringing cut through the atmosphere.
Roland froze, listening for the sound which echoed a second time.
Someone was at his doorstep.
He looked up to the wall clock handing on the wall at a corner. “Eleven minutes past ten,” he muttered. Who would be loo
