NEW FRIEND OR STRANGER
1107 Words
CHAPTER THREE
Lucy unlocked the door to her apartment and stepped aside, allowing Emily to enter first. The apartment was modest but warm, filled with yellow bulb light and the scent of lavender air freshener. Emily paused briefly, taking in her surroundings—the neatly arranged furniture, the framed photographs on the wall, the quiet human life that felt so different from the echoing halls of the witch kingdom.
“This is the guest room,” Lucy said, opening a door down the hallway.
Emily stepped inside. The room was simple: a small bed, a bedside lamp, a wooden wardrobe, and a window that overlooked the street below. To Emily, it felt strangely comforting—grounded, real.
Lucy carried Emily’s bag into the room and placed it gently beside the bed. “Make yourself comfortable,” she said. “If you need anything, just let me know.”
Emily nodded. “Thank you, Lucy. Truly.”
Lucy hesitated at the doorway. “Are you sure you don’t want something to eat? I can fix something quickly.”
Emily shook her head. “No, don’t worry. I’m okay.”
“Alright then. Good night,” Lucy said with a smile before closing the door softly behind her.
Emily sat on the bed for a long moment, listening to the unfamiliar sounds of the building—the noise of traffic, muffled voices, the occasional horn. She lay back slowly, exhaustion finally catching up with her. For the first time in centuries, she slept without cold water or silence pressing in on her.
In the living room, Lucy unpacked the groceries she had bought earlier, arranging them neatly in the refrigerator. She moved with the ease of routine, her mind still replaying the strange events of the night.
Who falls from the sky like that? she wondered.
She took out a couple of beers and a bowl of popcorn, sat on the couch, and switched on the television, turning it to her favorite program. The movie and bright images relaxed her. As minutes passed, fatigue crept in. The beer bottle rested loosely in her hand as her eyelids grew heavy.
Before she realized it, Lucy drifted into sleep.
Morning came ...
At exactly six o’clock, Lucy’s alarm rang. She stirred, stretched, and turned it off. Rubbing her eyes, she remembered—Emily.
She stepped out of her room and called softly, “Emily?”
No response.
Lucy’s heart skipped. Her thoughts raced. What if she left? What if something happened? The worry built quickly, fueled by the warnings she had ignored the night before.
She walked down the hallway and stood before the guest room door. Slowly, she opened it.
Emily was fast asleep, her breathing steady, her face calm.
Lucy exhaled in relief. “Thank goodness,” she whispered.
She closed the door gently, careful not to wake her.
Back in the kitchen, Lucy prepared breakfast—toast bread, eggs, and tea. As she cooked, she also got ready for work, glancing occasionally toward the guest room as if expecting Emily to appear at any moment.
By the time she finished dressing, the smell of food had filled the apartment.
That was when Emily finally woke.
She stepped into the living room, her hair slightly disheveled, eyes still heavy with sleep. She paused when she saw Lucy dressed neatly in office clothes, adjusting her bag.
“Good morning,” Emily said softly.
Lucy smiled. “Morning. I hope you slept well.”
“I did,” Emily replied. “Thank you for everything.”
Emily looked around, curious. “Where are you going?”
Lucy blinked, then laughed lightly. “To work.”
Emily tilted her head. “Work?”
“Yes,” Lucy said, amused. “I go out to make money.”
Emily nodded slowly, filing the information away. “Money,” she repeated, tasting the word.
Before Lucy could explain further, a car horn sounded
outside.
“That’s my ride,” Lucy said. “There’s breakfast in the kitchen. Make yourself comfortable.”
Emily smiled. “I will.”
As Lucy rushed out, Emily stood alone in the apartment, absorbing yet another piece of the mortal world. She moved cautiously, touching objects, peering out the window, sensing the satisfying traces of human energy all around her.
This world was loud—but alive.
At Lucy’s Workplace
Lucy arrived at the office just in time. The atmosphere filled with anticipation. Today was important.
She met up with Tony, her colleague and project partner, and together they walked into the conference hall. The room was filled with executives, staff, and the company chairman seated at the head of the table.
The presentation began.
Lucy spoke confidently, explaining the project’s goals and impact. Tony followed with technical details and projections. Their teamwork was seamless, the result of months of hard work.
As they concluded, the chairman nodded approvingly. “Impressive,” he said. “Well thought out.”
Relief washed over Lucy.
Thirty minutes later, the meeting ended, and the tension dissolved into quiet celebration among the staff.
During the afternoon break, Lucy joined her friends Annie and Bridget. They grabbed some snacks and sat at a three-seater table near the office cafeteria window.
As they ate, Lucy hesitated, then said, “Something strange happened last night.”
Annie raised an eyebrow. “What kind of strange thing?”
Lucy told them everything—Emily’s sudden appearance, the fall, the conversation, and how she had invited her to stay the night.
Bridget frowned. “Lucy, that’s dangerous.”
Annie nodded. “You can’t just take strangers into your house. You don’t know who she is or where she came from.”
Lucy sighed. “I know. But she didn’t seem harmful. She looked lost.”
“That’s how trouble usually starts,” Bridget replied.
Lucy stared at her snack, her appetite fading. Their words settled heavily in her mind. For the first time, doubt crept in—not about Emily’s kindness, but about her own recklessness.
“You’re right,” Lucy admitted. “I should have been more careful.”
Annie leaned closer. “What are you going to do?”
Lucy was quiet for a moment. Then she said, “I think I’ll ask her to leave. Help her find somewhere else.”
As she spoke the words, a strange unease twisted in her chest—an emotion she couldn’t quite explain.
Far away, in the quiet apartment, Emily stood by the window, staring into the sky.
Unaware that her place in the mortal world—and in Lucy’s life—was already hanging by a fragile thread.
- Writer
