Emerson did not make much noise when he was on the other side of my office door, save for the clicking of his keyboard and the occasional phone call. After he left, the silence was staggering, and I didn't understand why. I didn't want to dwell on it. I was already dwelling on our conversation about crying over lunch. I can't believe he was crying over my family. I never cried. Crying had been scared out of me. So it was actually kind of touching that he got teary-eyed about my family.

I went onto the website for the vendor that stocks our break rooms. We only had a small break room on our floor because most of us didn't tend to it, but Emerson liked to sit in there for lunch sometimes. I placed an order to restock some of our free snacks and supplies, making sure to include oranges on the list this time.

When it was a little past seven, I decided to work out for about two hours. I showered. I ate a piece of chocolate cake and a bag of chips. I slept until midnight and then I woke up feeling sick, so I walked on the treadmill because walking helps food digest faster. Food just didn't like to sit right with me, but I had to eat. When I felt better, I sat down on my bed and pulled out my tablet to watch Youtube videos. I did this for about two hours until I fell asleep, but I woke up again around four-thirty in the morning. 

I figured I would just wake up in a few hours anyway, so in my pajamas and slippers I went downstairs to my office to see what emails had flooded my inbox already. As I was sitting at my desk, I heard a noise on the other side of the door. It was clearly human, whatever it was. Has someone broken in? Was it the cleaning crew?

I grabbed the pepper spray I kept in my desk drawer. A knife or a gun could do more damage, but I didn't want to injure a poor custodian. Plus, pepper spray was worse than people thought it was. It was a lingering pain. So I peeked through the gap between the curtains but I did not see anything. I slowly opened the door and looked out. On the couch, in the dark, there was a figure laying down, sniffling. It didn't take me long to realize it was Emerson.

"Em?" I asked quietly into the dark.

Emerson sat up with a start. The city lights were illuminating the room enough for me to see his crying face. "Oh, Mr. Jett, I am so sorry," he said.

I walked towards him, asking, "What's wrong? What are you doing here?"

"I was just..." He sighed, trying not to cry more.

I took a seat next to him and put my hand on his back. "What is it?" I had no idea why he could be crying at four-thirty in the morning in the office.

"My roommate," he said. He had mentioned his weird roommate to me before.

"What did he do?" I asked, thinking about what damage my pepper spray could do.

"I woke up in the middle of the night to him in my room. I don't know if he was high or what but he was flailing a knife around and I was just so scared," Emerson said, then whimpered. "I left my phone on my bed and then he was cornering me so I tried to grab what I could. I managed to grab my keys but that was it. Then I ran out and I didn't know where to go but I had my badge so I came in here thinking I could call my mom or sister but I don't have their numbers memorized. Isn't that terrible? Who doesn't have their family members' phone numbers memorized?" He dropped his face into his hand.

"A lot of people don't," I said. "It's fine that you came here."

"I just feel so stupid. How could I forget my phone?"

I rubbed his back. "Em, it's alright. We can go back for your phone," I said.

He shook his head. "No, he's a maniac. I'm too scared to go back there," he said.

"You don't have to go inside. You just tell me how to get there, alright? I will talk to your roommate, put him in his place, and then I'll grab your phone and some of your stuff, alright?"

"He's scary, Mr. Jett," he said.

"How big is he? Is he bigger than me?"

Emerson looked me up and down. "No..."

"I'll take care of this," I said. "Trust me."

He met my eyes and then nodded. He looked just like a sad puppy again. I had to try my hardest to hide my anger. I had other weapons, but they were not necessary. I could take his punk ass roommate with just my bare hands.

We went to my car and he gave me directions on his apartment. When we pulled up out front, he told me what apartment number he was and handed me his keys. "Please be careful," he said. "I don't want you to get hurt."

My heart bounced for a second. "I'll be alright, Em."

I went upstairs to the apartment. Quietly, I unlocked the door and opened it. I peered inside, stepping into an empty apartment. Then, a greasy looking man with big glasses came out of one of the rooms into the living room. Before he even noticed I was there, I had him pinned against the wall with my forearm against his chest, knocking the wind out of him. His hands were empty. He started screaming.

"Shut the fuck up," I seethed. "Shut your fucking mouth right now. You don't get to terrorize Emerson and then act like you're exempt from being treated the same way. You're lucky I don't bash your fucking face in right now." I moved my forearm up so it was on his neck, making him gasp. He was being dramatic, acting like he couldn't breath, even though I was not pressing enough to choke him. "I could kill you right now and make it look like a suicide. No one would ever know." This wasn't true, but I'm sure I could figure something out. "I doubt anyone would care anyway."

"Please," he begged, crying.

"I could collapse your esophagus if I pressed hard enough," I said.

"No!" he exclaimed. If he were truly choking, he couldn't yell that loud.

I grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved him onto the ground. I stepped on his groin, keeping my foot there. "For the next forty-eight hours, you will not enter this apartment. For the next forty-eight hours, Emerson's things will be leaving this apartment. You are not to be here, do you understand?"

Wincing in pain, he said, "Please!"

"Do you understand?" I asked, pressing harder.

"Yes! Yes, I understand!"

"Good." I let go. "That forty-eight hours starts right now. I suggest you leave."

He ran out of the apartment in seconds.

I shut the door and went into the first room, which appeared to be the roommate's. It was rather empty. I started to think about the things he could've done to Emerson. A part of me almost wanted to chase him down and make sure he never hurt anyone ever again, but he seemed scared enough. I went into the other room that was Emerson's. A suitcase was under the bed and I filled it with some of his clothing, some of the stuff on his desk, whatever he seemed like he would miss. I grabbed his work bag and cell phone and carried it all downstairs, putting it in the backseat of the car save for his phone.

Emerson was no longer crying. When I handed him his phone, he stared at me intently, but all he said was, "Thank you."

I did not drive back to the office. Instead, I drove us to the townhouse. I parked my car in the garage and got out to grab his bags.

"Is this where you live?" he asked.

"Yes, although I don't spend nearly enough time here," I said. "I have many spare bedrooms, so you will stay here for the time being."

"Mr. Jett, I can't do that. That's way too kind of you. I feel like I would be intruding."

I shook my head. "Half the time I sleep at the office anyway," I said. "Come on." I led him into the townhouse, entering through the back door into the kitchen. "You said you don't move into your new apartment for how long?"

"About a month," he said. "But I can't stay here that long."

"Where else can you stay?" I asked.

"I mean, I can get a hotel room or maybe sleep on my sister's couch."

I shook my head again. "Paying for rent and a hotel room is not a sustainable idea. Does your sister have room for all of your stuff? I would assume not. Please, Em, let me do this for you. I would feel a lot better."

He sighed and then nodded his head. "Okay, but can we please not tell anyone about this? I'm so embarrassed about this and don't want anyone to think anything weird is going on."

"Of course," I said. "We can use the elevator."

I had an elevator installed in the house because my mother had bad knees and when she came over more, she liked sitting on the terrace upstairs. So we took the elevator to the fifth floor so he could stay in one of the spare bedrooms there. I led him into the bedroom that had a window on the front of the townhouse so it overlooked Central Park. It shared a bathroom with the other spare bedroom as well. "There's a toothbrush in the bathroom you can use. There should be shampoo, conditioner, and soap in the shower as well if you want to take one later. If it's not in the shower, look in the closet."

Emerson nodded, glancing about the room. I was hoping he didn't think the house was too much. When I first bought it, I just figured more people would live in it. Friends, family, maybe children. I used to think seven extra bedrooms weren't enough. Nowadays, I considered getting a condo instead with maybe two bedrooms, but I liked the townhouse too much. "Thank you," he said.

"I'm going to go upstairs and get ready for work, but maybe I'll stop by around noon and check on you? I can bring some lunch as well, but please feel free to sleep in as much as you want to," I said.

He nodded. "Is your bedroom upstairs?" he asked.

"Yeah, there's also a terrace up there, so feel free to explore if you want. Nothing is really off limits," I said. Most of my personal belongings that I wanted to keep private were actually more so in the flat at the office. I couldn't think of anything even in my bedroom that I wouldn't want him to find.

I let him be in the bedroom and went upstairs. I took a shower and then changed into clothes for work. I debated on knocking on his door as I was leaving, but decided to let him sleep and be on his own. I got a breakfast sandwich from the bodega by the office and then went upstairs to the quiet, empty office. The sun was just barely rising into the skyline. After eating my sandwich, the first thing I did was contact a moving company. I set up an appointment first thing at nine in the morning where I would meet them and they would gather Emerson's belongings. By the time things were finished they would be packed up and ready to take to my place just in time for lunch.

I had a virtual meeting right at eight in the morning. It was hard to concentrate. I kept checking my phone to see if Emerson texted me for something, but I was hoping he was actually in a deep sleep. He deserved it. I also kept thinking about his roommate and how he deserved a punch in the face. I knew Emerson wouldn't want me to instigate anything further. Still, he had been so sad. I hated seeing him cry. Emerson was just so...kind. He had a warmth or glow to him that made it hard to see him sad.

When the meeting was over, I went to Emerson's apartment to meet the movers. I had them pack every single thing in Emerson's room first. It wasn't difficult to determine what was Emerson's and what was his roommate. It didn't look like his roommate had many personal belongings. It was easy to tell that Emerson had an eclectic and eccentric home decor style. The furniture in the apartment was very old and worn so I didn't bother having them take it. If any of it was Emerson's, I'd rather have him take half of the furniture that went unused in my house instead. It was much nicer than the stained couch and the rickety chairs. It seemed like Emerson kept most of his stuff in his room anyway, even household goods, such as the glass cup with Whitney Houston on it. This made me assume that anything left out of his room was expendable. Again, if he needed new silverware, he could have mine. Once everything was packed, I had the movers take everything to my townhouse.