The door remained closed, “Charlotte?”
There was still silence, “Charlotte, answer me,” I begged.
She did actually give me an answer, “No.”
At that point I had to laugh, “But you just did.”
Charlotte was silent after that, most likely fuming from being proven wrong. Then, as I leaned against the door it slowly opened. “You want to know what happened?” She spoke in a whisper.
I shrugged, “I’m still here, what do you think?”
She opened the door wide enough to let me get through, “I suppose you should come in then.”

I actually wasn’t expecting Charlotte’s apartment to look like what it did. I expected it to look much like mine, since she was the same age as me. Yet her apartment seemed so much more livlier. Sketches covered most of the whitewash walls, filling the room with color, even though they were black and white. There were also books about artwork that littered the floor, “Sorry about the mess,” She mumured.

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