Wat If I Were to Tell You

Estonia was a curious woman, much more so than the average woman— as if there is an average woman. Sometimes or frequently, she was a real pain with her continued aggressive curiosity.

Her office was in a five-story building with an open courtyard that extended from the lobby to the fifth floor. Estonia’s office was on the fifth floor, number 26, which was confusing since there were only two offices on the fifth floor. Her small office was comprised of two rooms and the other office took up the remainder of the fifth floor.

The other office was assigned the number 22. It had a floor to ceilin8 bright orange door. It appeared to be made of metal. It did not have a door handle or lock. The large, orange door was always closed unless someone entered or exited.

The number 22 office door was marked with: Private, Number 22 Pass Required.

Stand in front of the camera.

Place your right hand on the print reader, do not move. No Food Allowed.

Weapons are allowed.

The door will unlock and open automatically. ALWAYS PRIVATE. NO GUESTS.

Estonia would frequently leave her office door open which gave her a clear view from her office to the large, orange door, and of course of the people entering and exiting number 22.

Over several months Estonia noticed one man who came and went from number 22 on a somewhat regular basis. His appearance and dress were almost always different. Some days he would be and elderly man with a cane, the next day a business executive, followed later by a construction worker, fireman, painter, doctor, bus driver and so forth. His age appearance would also vary from day to day. She thought a few times he dressed as a mature female. He would stand in front of the large, orange door and follow the instructions for entry until the door opens automatically.

On occasion he would turn his head and see Estonia looking at him from her office number 26. He would nod, smile, and wave his left hand before the large, orange door would automatically open.