Isabella Campbell

A lonely man and the little black book

It was odd to think that a little black book got me into this situation, twenty thousand dollars and being questioned by a god-like creature on the morality of humanity. If I knew this was where I would be finding myself on a Sunday afternoon, I doubt I would have ever taken that first step towards an unknown end, but alas my curiosity grabbed me by the collar and dragged me to find the answer. No logical man would walk down a dark hallway towards a glowing pedestal and expect anything good to come from it, and yet for some reason, I did. I suppose this all started this morning, a regular Sunday for one living alone. I wake up to the sound of doors banging and the once quiet street starts to distinctly get louder. The apartment block in which I live is filled with three distinct types of personalities, personalities of which I had studied since my moving here five years ago.