So we trudged up the hill, Tess and I. It was as vertical as you can get and we cursed at the extreme inconvenience we had to go through to get to the professor's house - a lone fortress that emerged more and more on the horizon with each uphill step. It wasn't really a fortress, it just seemed rather formidable from its lofty perch with the setting sun glowing from behind. It looked quite surreal.
The neighborhood was eerily deserted and the silence seemed unnatural and much too obvious. Having ridden in a noisy, crowded bus to this side of town, the strange silence perturbed me even more. Everything seemed stagnant, unfamiliar, distant yet sharply present.
"This place feels weird" I say, half-panting as we plod up the damn hill.
"It's your imagination" says Tess.
"Why are you whispering?" I say.
"I'm not whispering, I'm talking in hushed tones."
"I don't even feel like going".
"C'mon, it'll be fun to see how the professor lives. Debunk the mystery 'n all that shit".
"Maybe she'll lock the door behind her and have us for dinner or something."
"Oh please..." laughs Tess and rolls her eyes. "You're kidding right. Just stop thinking. You always get high on your imagination".
"You're getting high on suspense," I say, as we stop outside the house and she rings the doorbell.