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Playing around with narrating thought processes. Might gradually update this submission with more short stories.
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"Connie?"
"Yes."
The person behind the desk spun around in their chair to open a tiny box on the wall behind them.
"Great. You get apartment 23, right down that hall," they explained as they took out a keycard on a lanyard, leaning out to hand it over.
Connie lifted a hand and closed their fingers around the cloth strap. The person at the desk was wearing a similar card around their neck, so, they hung theirs over their shoulders too.
Unfortunately, their body was almost cylindrical. The card promptly slipped down around their feet. They lifted it back up, coiling and looping the intractable fabric on a search for a configuration that would keep it in place.
They were confident they could fix it eventually, but the person at the desk was staring, and they had to pause to look back up at them so often it was starting to interrupt them. With the lanyard still held in both hands, they trotted off into the hall.
Their new keycard fit into the reader on the door with a satisfying click, then a buzz of RFID communication. A passive tag in the card, familiar technology. When the door unlatched they hastily pulled it shut again, reinserting their card with a paw pressed against the reader to capture the password in transmission. The card appeared to be redundant, maybe they wouldn't need to bother with
"Something wrong with the door?" the person asked.
They twitched, exploratory threads sharply stopping. "No," they said, sticking their fingers in the reader to open it again and get inside.
Alone in a living space, they immediately felt like they were invading someone's privacy. They understood, though, that this was theirs. They surveyed the empty shelves, and almost proudly, set their keycard down.
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"Connie?"
"Yes."
The person behind the desk spun around in their chair to open a tiny box on the wall behind them.
"Great. You get apartment 23, right down that hall," they explained as they took out a keycard on a lanyard, leaning out to hand it over.
Connie lifted a hand and closed their fingers around the cloth strap. The person at the desk was wearing a similar card around their neck, so, they hung theirs over their shoulders too.
Unfortunately, their body was almost cylindrical. The card promptly slipped down around their feet. They lifted it back up, coiling and looping the intractable fabric on a search for a configuration that would keep it in place.
They were confident they could fix it eventually, but the person at the desk was staring, and they had to pause to look back up at them so often it was starting to interrupt them. With the lanyard still held in both hands, they trotted off into the hall.
Their new keycard fit into the reader on the door with a satisfying click, then a buzz of RFID communication. A passive tag in the card, familiar technology. When the door unlatched they hastily pulled it shut again, reinserting their card with a paw pressed against the reader to capture the password in transmission. The card appeared to be redundant, maybe they wouldn't need to bother with
"Something wrong with the door?" the person asked.
They twitched, exploratory threads sharply stopping. "No," they said, sticking their fingers in the reader to open it again and get inside.
Alone in a living space, they immediately felt like they were invading someone's privacy. They understood, though, that this was theirs. They surveyed the empty shelves, and almost proudly, set their keycard down.
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Category Story / All
Species Unspecified / Any
Size 237 x 219px
File Size 30.1 kB
Listed in Folders
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