Jess's Enigmatic Facade.

As I approached the door to my apartment, I noticed a slumped figure lying against it. His back was pressed firmly against the door, and his chin was buried in his chest as he slept. I tried tapping the heel of my shoe against the floor to rouse him, but to no avail. I was in a bit of a predicament as I needed to get inside, but the man's body blocked my way.

Glancing up and down the corridor, I realized that there was no one around to help me. I was on my own. I had to find a way to move this man so that I could unlock the door and get inside. However, it wasn't going to be easy. If I dared to open the door, his body would fall directly inside. I didn't want to hurt him, but I also didn't want to leave him there.

I wasn't sure who this guy was, and that worried me. He could be anyone - a drunkard who drinks heavily on weekends and ends up slumped outside the door of random people. He could be a beggar, but the reputation of this building made that unlikely. From his countenance, he also didn't appear to be a beggar. So, who was he?

The corridor was empty, which made me assume that Carl was the only person who owned an apartment here. But that didn't help me in my current situation. I needed to get inside, and this man was blocking my way.

I tried to wake him, but nothing worked. I even attempted to move him, but he was too heavy for me to lift. I felt my early enthusiasm draining as my physical potential and strength diminished. It was becoming apparent that I was going to have to wait.

As I sat down beside him, I couldn't help but wonder who he was and how he got here. Was he in trouble? Was he hurt? I hoped not. All I could do was wait until he woke up or someone else came along to help me. Until then, I was stuck outside my own apartment with a sleeping stranger.

As I looked around, the silence of the empty corridor echoed in my ears, making me feel more isolated and vulnerable.

I hesitated to touch him, unsure of his state and the risks associated with intervening. Was he a beggar or a drunkard, or was he someone in desperate need of help? My mind raced with different possibilities, but I knew I had to act fast to get into the apartment behind him. After several unsuccessful attempts, I finally gave up and slumped down next to him, feeling defeated and hopeless.

But then, out of nowhere, something strange happened. I heard a faint whisper, a fragmented syllable that sounded like a name. I looked up, confused and disoriented, only to find the man's eyes staring back at me, still concealed by his heavy lids.

Desperate to make sense of the situation, I leaned in closer, straining to hear the words he was murmuring. The syllables were broken and vague, making it hard to decipher their meaning. I shook him harder, hoping to awaken him fully, but nothing worked until the final shake.

His eyes fluttered open, and with a dizzy voice, he spoke a name. "Bella," he whispered, and my heart skipped a beat. The sound of his voice was so smooth and velvety, it felt like a warm blanket enveloping me in its embrace.

I was struck by a sudden urge to know more about this man who lay in front of me. Who was Bella, and why was she so important to him? As I pondered over these questions, I felt a sense of curiosity and intrigue bubbling up inside me, propelling me forward into the unknown.

Two beggars, or drunkards, sprawled on the ground in front of a dilapidated building. Whatever you may assume. I felt like the drunkard one because of the tiredness ascending on every inch of my body, nerves, and mental capabilities of staying conscious. But despite my exhaustion, I couldn't help but notice the hypnotic quality of his voice. It was melodic, soothing, and filled with sorrow.

My bleary eyes focused on his face, searching for clues to the source of his pain. His expression was calm, but beneath the surface, there was a palpable sadness that seemed to have been there for years. I felt like a math teacher trying to solve an equation that even the masters couldn't decipher. It was as if his face was a puzzle that I desperately wanted to solve, but couldn't.

I asked him, "Who's she?" Hoping to glean some insight into his melancholy. Did they break up? Did she leave him? Did he leave her? My mind raced with questions, each answer giving birth to even more questions. I was exhausted by my own curiosity, but I couldn't help myself. I wanted to spend long, never-ending nights, reading his face and listening to his soothing voice.

But right now, all I wanted was to slump onto my bed and sleep until the tiredness dissipated, like the fresh morning breeze. Suddenly, my phone rang, jolting me out of my reverie. "Hey, Carl," I answered, my voice barely audible.

"Yes, I'm not inside yet. There's a drunkard right in front of your door with his back against it," I explained the situation and his countenance to Carl, hoping for some guidance. On the other end, Carl sounded relaxed, as if he was accustomed to people being laid out outside his door.

"Oh, don't worry about him," Carl said nonchalantly.

"What do you mean?" I asked incredulously. How could he be so cavalier about a man in such a condition?

"He's Jess, Grace. My neighbor. He's a nice man. You just move him a little aside and manage to get inside anyway. He'll not harm you."

Jess. I liked his name. The moment I heard it, I liked it right away. It was a strong name, with a sense of dignity and strength. I wondered what other secrets lay hidden behind that name.

I hung up the phone and looked down at Jess's sleeping face. It was time to put my powers to the test. I stood up, feeling a renewed sense of energy, and bent over his shoulders, tugging them between my hands. I used all my strength to push his body aside, but he didn't budge, not even a little.

I felt a sense of panic rising within me. What if I couldn't move him? What if I couldn't get inside? I took a deep breath and tried again, this time using all my weight to push him aside. Finally, he shifted, and I was able to slip inside the building.

As I closed the door behind me, I looked back at Jess's sleeping form, wondering what his story was. I made a mental note to ask Carl about him later, hoping to uncover more of the mysteries that lay hidden behind Jess's enigmatic facade.