Waiting Up For You To Rescue Me

Knock. Knock. She stands alone at the door. A doorbell goes off. Rain falls. She stands outside, alone. Walk away?
Thoughts are processed, seconds allowed to pass. Decisions are made. The door is tested, found to be lacking an adequately prepared locking mechanism, opened. Her eyes scan the room.
Stood up?
Neurons fire, the scene is scanned, analyzed. Her eyes examine every detail, facts are computed, determinations are made. She will inquire further. A draft is felt.
The basement? Why would he be in the basement?
Steps are taken, a path is followed that ends in a basement door and a poorly lit staircase, ominous in its construction. She tries the switch. Staircase now slightly luminous. She proceeds. Down the steps, she discovers water.
He is not here.
She calls his name. Wonders why this wasn’t attempted earlier. Perhaps failure to hear knock associated with failure to hear.
No response. She sees a figure. In water, face down.
She forgets to scan, forgets to kick off heels. Runs.

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