Tensor by Adoraincerta

Point

Ikea is an ideal place to hide after working hours. If you exclude shelters whose bathrooms are full of needles, it becomes the only place.

Maglor detours to a door painted “Staff Only” and fishes out the paper ruler from his pocket, inserts into the keyhole and tweaks for no more than 3 seconds and sidesteps into the dim warehouse. Through the only road designed for trolleys, he can find a way directly out. With no light upon the assembled furniture, they seem stiffer and less attractive than usual.

After pretending to be the first batch of tourists arriving at the exact time Ikea opens on weekdays or a husband suddenly discovered his stock of bulbs had run out last night and he had to fulfill it immediately, Maglor notices on the elevator that a familiar staff is putting a new decoration - a mother-of-pearl vase whose color shines differently from various angles - in the first bedroom suite. It is always her throughout his time here that is responsible for tidying up and changing layouts in this 150 sqft bedroom, and she always keeps the room impressive enough for visitors. Today, she kindly tosses a glance at him, as if he were someone living nearby and couldn’t resist touring Ikea every day.

The glance sweats him, however, a hint, Maglor thinks, to leave here and head for his next niche.

His first destination is downtown, as always. It’s a resourceful place, though those who don’t get to know it thoroughly say there is too much danger. You won’t be attacked even on the so-called most dangerous street under daylight, but Maglor knows it only takes a small turn into a thinner lane to get you killed.

Food banks will be his last resort, and as he passes by one, a dialogue drifts away toward his direction.

“…please let us know if you need anything else. Hope these are enough but you’re welcome anytime.”

He turned into a filthy lane where drug deals happen a lot and feels his panic washing over his mind like waves, until the familiar voice is buried by shoutings and screaming nearby.

Only if he didn’t recognize him.

When Maglor’s heartbeat goes into peace again, his preparation for the next meal has long gone. During dizziness it is expectable, only that he needs to cope with it before tomorrow morning or he’ll have a needle in his elbow soon or later, which isn’t what he hopes to end up like.

It’s a compact studio, located in the heart of the city. Bright, well-furnished, but still need to replace the table with a Morphy bed during the nighttime. Too familiar with such space (the compact part, not the newly decorated part), he always assumes no one can break into it without him sensing, as there are no other rooms besides the equally tiny bathroom, all furniture laying just in front of him, thus no safety issues at all, except the annoying smoke detector.

Elrond just quits an animal shelter where he’d worked as a volunteer and joins another NGO. Indeed the shelter had been giving him a continuous sense of achievement for over a year, but with fewer gaps to breathe between endless theories and lab work, his empathy ebbed with a speed he never expected even before the semester ends and the residency starts. A month ago, he gave his two-week notice out of consideration to do something more human-related.

After assuring he has abundant experiences with people, his new leader at the food bank allows him to get in touch with their main targeted group. Elrond’s responsibility, namely, is handing the packed food to whoever needs a food bank package and explaining to them what it contains, which of them should be consumed as soon as possible, and what could be preserved longer.

They are running short of staff recently; NGOs always are. So not having time to get a break actually helps him temporarily distract from schoolwork. After finishing the day's work, there's only 5 minute's walk to his condo.

Lately, a few of his plates have been carefully misplaced. Just an inch from its original position. Slightly skewed. All the same but in the opposite direction. No fingerprints on the door of the microwave or oven, but several pieces of cereal are scattered on the tabletop.

It’s easy to rise suspicion, living near the most dangerous block in the district, having heard drug dealers whispering around the corner every night. Elrond goes to the seldomly-working concierge, praying that at least one surveillance camera survives from constant attacks by beer bottles.

“3 working days later, please.”

It’s unfair to say such a reply is entirely unexpected. He returns to his unit, lowers to the height of the keyhole, opens the flashlight on his phone, and finds not a trace but familiar scratches from the last tenant.

Meanwhile, he comes up with a quiz.

Elrond hesitates for a few seconds, pausing in front of the cabinet, then takes the plate moved most frequently by his mysterious intruder on the counter. He hasn’t seen any food crusts, so diversity may be a good choice: a bar of black chocolate, a piece of Baguette and a pack of dried fruit, placed from left to right on the plate. Does they need some drinks too? Having done all these, he has the best sleep in a while.

He’s almost delighted the second morning, to discover the chocolate disappeared but the other two remained. Undried sink reveals his suspicion about the drink is reasonable, which only causes him to further wonder how can he be not woken with the tap open 2 meters away.

The first time he stands before the shelf storing fast food, considering perhaps the committer of the break & entering needs a wider spectrum of nutrition and diversity than he needs. For health’s sake, he hasn’t been there for years, until picking up some classic items this time.

Something rather valuable but not useful can be of help too. Elrond digs out a watch from the deep box heaping each other in the corner, and lay out the combination of food, water and the watch on the counter.

Between lectures and a part-time job, he comes back sharply at 8 pm, relieved no one has entered yet. Some takeaways from dinner remained, so he can finish tonight’s menu, replacing the chocolate with a piece of pizza. Plus a glass of water.

The next day, with an email saying he’s been permitted to choose a time slot to watch the surveillance footage, the last pack of his dried fruit- a small luxury for him, actually- left, not bothering to say goodbye, together with half of the water. The watch was moved, leaving no fingerprints. He imagines the lens once projecting whoever broke in again.

After checking the calendar, it’s both disappointing and reassuring, weirdly, to know there are another 3 days ahead of him before he can technically have the time for the footage, though he ceases to hold any hope. He leans back on the counter, contemplating, is sure a clue lying in the corner has been omitted. From ceiling to floor, from the uppermost point on the wall to the door nob, his gaze finally stops at the patio. He never pays attention to it, a bare patio just big enough to stand without furniture. Also, his tight schedule limits his moves indoor. Alongside, a theory buried before untimely breaks his sense of security, that a meticulously pretended recklessness is what the intruder intends to look like. From the beginning, he knew staying up late would be the best and fastest way to confront them, but between crazy finals, he’s simply not allowed sacrificing sleep time for a seemingly harmless stranger.

Therefore he acquiesces to similar interactions, which means he begins to spend even less time indoors, to fill what the intruder eats. Occasionally, on a day or two, he senses the intruder escaping before dawn, but as quick as he wakes, not a wind blows. Footage shows no suspicious figure or even a silhouette has tried to break into this property, and he gradually gains the habit of dividing the dinner in two, leaving the smaller part intact, like keeping an invisible pet. Most of the time, the intruder saves his time of doing the dishes.

He puts the calendar on an obvious spot, draws a circle around each day as the end of the semester is around the corner. After the last exam, Elrond spares himself a deep sleep, delighted discovering a full plate turned into an empty one. If the intruder ever wants to surface themself, tonight is the time.

He hurriedly goes to the library, picks 3 books without a thorough inspection, fills the refrigerator with fresh vegetables instead of fast food, cozily lies on the sofa, waiting for the mysterious guest.

Dusk covers the skyline with orange, then with crimson. Rarely he has the opportunity to observe the full process of sky blackening then embellished by stars, nor does he sleeps with them for a long time. It’s the most comfortable season in this city, breeze blowing through the gaps of windows, until seeing an all-black silhouette outside them. Elrond’s almost asleep, view blurred with entangled words, fingertip clamped between pages. He bites his lips to obtain temporary sober, gets out of the warm quilt, approaching the patio with bare feet.

As the sliding door opens, the breeze becomes stronger winds, blowing to erase all other sounds. Only one step left, but there’s no need, for he already senses it, the familiar stance, dark hair and the contour in profile.