He unlocked the door with a metallic clang. The beige wallpapered door panel turned slowly to the side. They both silently observed the empty interior without stepping inside. Old, stale air blew into their faces.
He entered first with an indescribable serenity.
"This is it. This is the apartment."
She, on the other hand, took a little more time, but then she moved into her new home as well.
As she slid inside, she ran her fingers along the wall. A warm yet dry feeling greeted her fingertips.
"Brown textile wallpaper," she said in a fascinated tone.
He casually replied, "Yes, they are in almost every apartment these days."
She continued to walk around the apartment. Artificial floors, old wallpapered walls, and the subtle veils of color over the years. A few chairs here and there, a table. An orphaned mirror. There wasn't much furniture. And there wouldn't be.
She approached the large windows that overlooked the communal balcony. The balcony ran along the facade of several apartments, connected like a corridor. She got an alienating impression of the smooth, brick-brown facades of the other units.
Expressionless window openings completed her certainty. And she sighed.
"Well, that's it. But at least this."
He closed in on her and looked at the pale view, too.
"We still have that. Luckily."
##
The night was passing without complaint, but she still woke up in the middle of it. An inner restlessness drove her out of bed. Moonlight enveloped the atmosphere of the apartment in a very pleasant scenario. She walked slowly across the rooms, instinctively to the spot where she had looked at the other apartments the day before.
Again she strode towards the spacious window and peered through it. Was it just a trick of her mind or was it reality? A small car from the last century was parked on the large balcony. A rusty Puch 500.
Confused, she went back to bed.
##
Early in the morning, curiosity got her out of bed again. Had she seen this correctly during the night? Cautiously she approached the balcony to check. Sure enough, the Puch 500 was still there.
And there was fog on the inside of its windows. Suspiciously, she narrowed her eyes, her perception trying to decipher the colors and shades behind the dull dew. What was inside this car?
Suddenly, a grimace appeared on the window pane. With big clear eyes and a white face made of fur. It was a cat. Its gaze turned helplessly to the sky with an expression of desperation. The despair of a caged creature.
She backed away, startled. The cat's face was burned deeply into her mind. Searchingly she looked around. Is there a door to the balcony? And indeed there was. The wide wooden wall to the left of the window turned out to be a large sliding door.
With a jerk, she pulled the door aside, opening the way out onto the wide balcony. And looked into the eyes of a woman in a nightgown.
"Who are you?" she asked the strange woman.
"I live here and you?" With a nod to her own balcony entrance next door, the strange woman signaled that she was the neighbor.
The new tenant quickly replied, "Ah, I'm so glad. We're new renters here. My name is Lasa."
A simple and blunt "I see" came back, and Lasa quickly realized that she had to get down to business, since the offish neighbor obviously didn't like to talk. She pointed to the car.
"Is this your Puch 500?"
The woman gave a reluctant nod, and Lasa made a quick effort to lighten the atmosphere: "So nice! I know these cars. Great piece."
No response came except a skeptical sideways glance.
"And there's a cat in it! Is it yours?"
The woman turned away from the car and remarked, "The cat is not ours."
Astonished, the new tenant looked at the woman and repeated, "But it's in your car."
The woman repeated tonelessly. "The cat is not ours. I can't help it." And then she disappeared behind her balcony door.
Speechless, Lasa turned to her husband, who had joined the strange scene and watched in amazement as the strange woman stepped down. He shrugged his shoulders and then helped close the large sliding balcony door.
"What are we going to do? That poor animal!" muttered Lasa, and her husband replied in a muffled tone, "People are like that. They don't care about anything."
"And what are we going to do?" repeated Lasa. Her husband scratched his head, "Any good ideas? We have to be careful. They don't care about the cat, but if we open the car, we'll be in trouble too."
"That's so terrible," she whispered. He tried to soothe her, "You will find a solution in time. Calm down first and then an idea will come."
Lasa nodded silently. But he was right. She always had an idea. Eventually.
##
After breakfast, Lasa's husband went off to work, and she was left all alone in the apartment.
Of course, it's always convenient for other people to trust that you have an idea or a solution to a problem, but it's not so easy for the person in question. Lasa found herself in that situation. So, over a cup of tea, she pondered how she could save the cat without being caught or suspected.
And there was no solution at hand, she reasoned, only the blunt fact that she was running out of time as far as the cat's health was concerned. So she finally reached a point where she stopped thinking about the consequences and just focused on the priority of life.
She marched determinedly to the balcony door, took a deep breath, and gingerly pushed the door open.
For a moment, Lasa had an irritated look at her neighbor's windows. They seemed unusually lifeless and dark. Could it be that the strange woman had left the building as well? But she did not dwell on the question for long. Silently, she walked over to the car, ducked so as not to disturb the cat, and began to carefully turn the handle of the old vehicle. She was afraid that it might be locked.
Oh please, let it open!
And yes, it made -click-.
The door burst open, and the cat immediately zoomed past Lasa and through the open balcony door into the apartment. Lasa turned patiently in the direction of the cat's disappearance and slowly followed it. As she stepped inside, she spotted the cat in the hallway. And the animal was glancing back at her, tail twitching and ears pointing. Lasa slowly moved forward and paused six feet from the white animal. The cat still observed the woman, but then paced back and forth as if trying to decide where to go.
"Now, I can't leave you here, can I?" Lasa uttered, and carefully approached the cat, who did not back away.
The cat swung its tail back and forth as it looked at the woman expectantly. Lasa slowly bent down to it, picked it up, and rose again.
"I think we need to find you something."
With the cat in her hand, leaning against her own stomach, she walked with gentle steps to the bowl with the keys, took the ones for the car, put on her shoes and left the apartment.
##
The city was not a good place for a stray cat to live, and there were no longer any animal shelters in town. Only the great dark forests to the south could satisfy Lasa's desire to give the cat a chance at an undisturbed life.
So she traveled long and far, deep into the forest, which is usually avoided because there is nothing for humans to get.
But even there, stirring the car through the shadows of large, imposing trees, Lasa couldn't think of a suitable place to leave the rescued cat.
So she continued on until she almost reached the next town. And just before the forest gave way to civilization, a turnoff with a neglected sign caught her eye.
If not now, when?
She steered the car into the fork and followed a bumpy path as the lush, overhanging bushes scratched the car lightly.
The cat sat quietly on one of the back seats, staring at the bursting activity of the leafy branches.
Gradually, the first impressions of crumbling brick buildings appeared, and the path that had inspired little confidence was replaced by a concrete forecourt.
They came to a halt in front of a gate with an old sign that read "Campus", indicating its former function.
Behind the wrought-iron gate rose the massive brick buildings of the abandoned high school.
Stunned, Lasa got out of the car and couldn't be quick enough to close the door when the cat shot out and ran towards the gate, tail raised.
And she had already slipped through. Lasa had no choice but to follow. She wanted to see for herself if the place was suitable for the cat. The gate didn't prove to be an obstacle, the handle was pushed down with a screech and Lasa opened the squeaky part a little.
Moss and grass covered the former forecourt of the huge school building. The soft green of decay adorned not only the ground, but also parts of the windowsills, window frames, and the small protrusions of the ornate exposed brick facade. Here and there, the glass of a window was already broken.
Lasa carefully pushed open the large wooden door of the front entrance. The lock was visibly broken. The cat had long since made its way inside through an open window.
As her footsteps echoed on the dusty marble floor, her heart suddenly accelerated. It was not impossible that this place was already inhabited by others. But Lasa's inner feeling denied this possible danger. And when she consciously looked around, she could be sure that no one had walked these dusty halls for a long time.
In the distance, the cat meowed encouragingly, and Lasa turned in that direction. The wide corridor became narrower and lower, with steps leading up and down half a floor. And then she entered a corridor that looked very different from the rest of the school building.
Cautiously, she opened one of the many doors and stuck her head in to see what was inside.
A whole living room! And a kitchen.
Hurriedly, she ran from door to door to make sure she was right. The cat followed her excitedly, slipping out of one of the rooms.
Suddenly, the phone in her purse rang. Confused, Lasa grabbed it, realized it was from her husband, and picked it up. She heard his muffled voice.
"Honey, where are you?"
Excitedly, she replied, "You won't believe this, but..."
Then she took a deep breath and continued her sentence in a steady voice,
"We're not going to need the apartment."