Two months passed. The red trees began to lose its leaves, and a gelid rain would pour on every citizen who'd dare go outside. It was morning, but it was a Sunday; so Helen was giving a **** about the way she (did not) brush her hair and her pink PJ's combining with yellow socks. In her new house everything was pink and yellow and happy. So she was there, preparing coffee to mix with milk, when the doorbell rang.

It must be the mailman, she ignored, or Mrs Flemming, but I don't feel like sharing sugar and talking about England. - so there she stayed, mixing black and white and seeing how it turned into light brown. So coffee is not black, it is dark brown. Great line of thought!

Pein!

Pein!

Peeein!

Helen put the spoon down, puffing. Very few people rang her doorbell, specially on Sunday mornings. If her mother and father have came to greet the new apartment at that hour of sleepiness she would have an attack. Not of happiness, we may add.

" 'm coming..." She dragged herself to the front to open the door. It made nhééc, and Helen stared straight into the big eyes of Octavian Gardner, felt numbness and panic race through her body, and let out a low hip!

"Good morning, Helen Navarro, my ex neighbor! What a pleasure of encountering you today! May I come in? Excuse me." And without waiting for an answer he stepped into Helen's new apartment, opening the door wider himself and by doing so pushing Helen aside as though the house was also his. He inspected the indoors with curiosity, taking briefly looks over the couch and the pile of paper boxes and junk onto it; and the TV, which had a gray box for itself behind the screen and (as crazy it might sound), two antennas like an ugly and squared bug. He then peered across the small balcony to the sink, clean of any dishes, and the colored notes glued at random spots on the refrigerator.

Helen's brain and soul started spinning each on contrary directions. What in hell was he doing there? Why? How? She wanted to wake up from whichever bad dream she was having now. Octavian turned to her finally, with a big smile plastered in his face, and watched her hilarious expression for some delightful seconds before speaking:

"Do you remember the last thing you have said to me? See you in hell, that was it. I've played and replayed this phrase in my head... and yes! I accept. I came to pick you up, we are going to hang out in hell." He walked to the kitchen to give a look at the post its. "You have no appointments today, do you? Nothing written in here, at least. Where do you keep the cookies pot? You look like someone who has cookies." he went to the cupboard sneak in for food. Helen grabbed his arm before he reached the knob.

"Wait! Who do you think you are, my owner?!! You think you can enter in my house like this? Get your paws off my cupboard!"

Octavian didn't move a muscle while she pressed on his arm, firm as someone who really knew business. He opened a smile, at last, and gave a step back, not long enough to be far but enough to have a better angle. "You missed me, didn't you?"

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