It came from the spare room on the other side of the upper corridor. As I marched inside I stood directly across a brand new desk. Ann-Lena was sittin... behind it, peacefully browsing through a equestrian magazine. The once so empty spare-room had been fully re-furnished into a modern office. When had she done that? But although my appearance was not to be overheard, Ann-Lena still didn't pay my any interest. "Miss von Hardenberg?” I tried to call her attention. She just shushed me quiet by. I run to a nearby bench to drop my bags off, fishing my phone out of my pocket to tap the screen awake. I hold my breath when I see Tristan’s name in bold at the top of the list. Why is he messaging me now? I rip off my glove, my fingers shaking from being exposed to the cold as I tap the screen to read the message. Come to the office. Now What could he possibly want, now that I’m gone? —— I’ve been so lost in constructing scenarios for the evening ahead that I’m surprised that I’m actually. More

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