Chapter 2 First interaction with Francis at the gate

The sun had barely risen over the city, casting a soft golden hue across the streets as Marie stepped out of her apartment building for the first time since moving in. She had a list of errands to run-groceries, a visit to the post office, and perhaps a stop at the local café to familiarize herself with the neighborhood. As she approached the gate, she noticed a man standing by the security booth, his posture straight and attentive. He was dressed in a neatly pressed uniform, his name tag reading "Francis." His demeanor was professional, yet there was an air of distance about him.

Marie hesitated for a moment, unsure of the proper etiquette. Should she acknowledge him? Was he someone she should get to know? As she drew closer, Francis looked up from his clipboard, his expression unreadable. "Good morning," he said, his voice polite but neutral. "Good morning," Marie replied, offering a tentative smile. "I'm Marie Montgomery, I just moved into 12B." Francis nodded, his gaze flickering briefly to her face before returning to his clipboard. "Welcome to The Crestwood Residences," he said, his tone still formal. Marie felt a pang of disappointment. She had hoped for a warmer reception, perhaps a friendly chat to ease her into her new surroundings. But Francis remained distant, his attention fixed on the tasks at hand. "Thank you," she said, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "I was wondering if you could recommend a good place for coffee around here?" Francis glanced up briefly, his eyes meeting hers for a fraction of a second. "There's a café two blocks down," he said, his voice still lacking warmth. "They open at seven."([Inkitt][1]) Marie nodded, grateful for the information. "Thanks," she said, taking a step back. "I'll check it out." Francis gave a curt nod, his attention already shifting back to his clipboard. "Have a good day," he said, his tone still polite but distant. Marie watched him for a moment longer, then turned and walked away, her thoughts swirling. She had hoped for a friendlier interaction, but Francis had been nothing more than courteous and professional. Perhaps he was just doing his job, she reasoned. Still, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to him than met the eye. As she walked down the street, she couldn't help but replay the encounter in her mind. She had tried to engage him, to make a connection, but he had remained closed off. Was it her? Or was it just his nature? She couldn't tell. Later that day, as she sat in the small café Francis had recommended, sipping her coffee and watching the world go by, she found herself thinking about him again. There was something intriguing about his aloofness, something that made her want to know more. But she also wondered if she should just let it go. After all, she was new here. She didn't want to come across as intrusive or pushy. The next few days passed in a blur of settling in-unpacking boxes, arranging furniture, and getting acquainted with the neighborhood. Each time Marie passed the gate, she saw Francis standing there, his posture straight and his gaze watchful. He always greeted her with a polite nod or a brief "Good morning," but the distance between them remained. One afternoon, as she returned from a trip to the grocery store, she noticed Francis standing by the gate, his eyes scanning the street. He looked up as she approached, his expression unreadable. "Afternoon," he said, his voice neutral. "Hi," Marie replied, offering a small smile. "I was wondering, do you know if there's a good place around here for dinner? I'm still getting to know the area." Francis hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "There's a bistro a few blocks away," he said. "They serve good food." "Thanks," Marie said, grateful for the recommendation. "I'll check it out." Francis gave a brief nod, his attention already shifting elsewhere. "Have a good evening," he said, his tone still polite but distant. Marie watched him for a moment, then turned and walked away, her thoughts swirling. She had tried again to engage him, but once more, he had remained closed off. Perhaps he was just a private person, she thought. Or maybe he had his reasons for keeping his distance. As she entered her apartment that evening, she couldn't help but feel a sense of frustration. She had hoped for a connection, a friendly face in a new place, but Francis had been nothing more than polite and distant. Maybe she was expecting too much, she reasoned. After all, they were just neighbors. But deep down, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to Francis than met the eye. And perhaps, just perhaps, she could be the one to break through his guarded exterior.