Esther Wells glances at her watch — 5:48pm — and sighs. She notices a young man walking in her direction.
Esther: Excuse me, dear. I don’t mean to be a bother, but have you seen my friend?
Timmy: Not a bother at all, ma’am. Who’s your friend?
Esther: His name is Al. Albert.
Timmy: Oh, I’m sorry, ma’am, I don’t know an Albert.
Esther: Are you sure? He lives here. He lives right down the hall from me. Kind of a twiggy gentleman and not much of a looker, but such a sweet man. Don’t tell him I mentioned this, but I do like him. He’s brought me such comfort this past week. I only just met him, but he feels like a kindred spirit - I feel I’ve known him my whole life.
Timmy: Why that sounds like a beautiful friendship! I myself have never felt such a way with another.
Esther: Oh, my dear boy, you will, you will! It’s a wonderful feeling to have such a connection with someone - to have such empathy for them. But that’s it, you see. I’m worried for my friend. I haven’t seen him since last night’s dinner and I feel something must be wrong. We’ve been going to the dining hall together every night since he arrived.
Timmy: I’m sure he’s fine. Perhaps he just needed to rest today.
Esther: No, that’s not it. I’ve check his room. Oh, I knocked first, don’t you worry about that, but there was no answer so I was forced to enter as a concerned party and investigate. I didn’t find much, though. Yes, I’ll admit to rummaging through his coat pockets but it was hanging off his chair and I didn’t see the harm. All I found was crumpled paper anyway. He doesn’t have secrets, not from me at least.
Timmy: Didn’t you say you just met him a few days ago? He could have secrets.
Esther: Oh, no. Not Al. Not my Al. He only has a daughter and his wife left him years ago. His secrets would be very dull.
Timmy: If you insist.
Esther: I’m just not sure where he could be. I’ll have to sit alone at dinner. I refuse to sit next to Mary J. Galloway. If I have to listen to her talk about her dead husband, Captain Sidney H. Galloway, again I’ll die of apathy and tell him he married an odious woman.
Timmy snickered, trying to stay professional.
Timmy: Well, I must be getting on with my tasks. I hope your Albert turns up soon. Perhaps his daughter picked him up for the day.
Esther: Oh, yes. That’s a good theory.
Timmy: I’ll check in with Mr. Fritts at the front if you’d like.
Esther: No, that’s okay, dear. I don’t trust that man. This shouldn’t be brought to his attention.
Timmy: Okay, well, try to have a good evening, ma’am. Take care of yourself.
Timmy walks away. Esther speaks faintly to herself and pulls a piece of paper from her pocket and uncrumples it — ABE.
Esther: Oh, Albert… where are you? And who is Abe?
THE END
Thank you so much for reading. This is somewhat of a continuation of last week’s short story, but could also stand alone, like cheese. Cheers.