Awakening II

Without giving it any thought, her legs started moving. Before she knew it, she was in close pursuit of the stranger dressed in a roughly knitted jumper and light blue jeans, shouldering a green messenger backpack.

They walked along the canal for a little while, before taking another sharp turn up some stairs onto a small residential road. Isa couldn’t keep track of the left and right turns. She was lost already. It made no difference that she wouldn’t remember the way back.
They crossed a larger street with a small supermarket and a bakery. A short elderly woman came out of the bakery as she walked by. The buttery smell of croissants mixed in with the usual London stench. The next residential road hit a long brick wall, and they took another left along it.
The sun now shone low through a few gaps between the semi-detached houses on the opposite side of the wall. It painted strange tall shadows across the otherwise continuous harsh surface. The sea of dark red brick was interrupted by large rusty iron gates. She slowed down when she saw the young man reaching out to open them. Her heart stopped when he turned his head towards her. There was no way to conceal herself. In a rather foolish attempt to hide, she turned right towards the brick wall.

“I highly doubt the wall is going to swallow you up,” the long-haired stranger shouted down the road. Not knowing what to say, Isa just stood there staring. She couldn’t even begin to explain why she was here. The street was deserted. Nobody bore witness to their conversation. Yet, the stranger did not look at all menacing or intimidating.
“Don’t just stand there. The wall won’t just magically melt away. After all, this isn’t Diagon Alley.”
She recovered her voice, walked towards the stranger, and glanced through the gates that now stood ajar. Cobblestones paved the short way to imposing wooden doors.  “What is it?” She asked, her eyes scanning the façade of the enormous, slightly run-down but handsome Victorian warehouse on the other side of the gates. There was no way of peaking inside through any of the windows. They were either too dirty or reflective.
“Used to be an old tobacco factory,” the stranger said, shrugging.

Without considering her next words and how they might come across, she said: “I have seen this place before.”
“You live around here?” The stranger asked.
“I have no idea where we are,” she answered, not thinking about the implications this statement could have on her safety. The stranger turned to face her. He inspected her very thoroughly. His demeanour changed from a frown to raised eyebrows and wide eyes, as if he remembered he had left the stove on. Whatever the epiphany, in mere seconds he shifted his weight casually and pushed the gate, he was still holding on to, open.
“Coming?” 

Isa looked at the stranger in shock. Surely she wouldn’t or rather shouldn’t go with a stranger into an old abandoned warehouse. The road was paved with red flags. And yet… Curiosity killed the cat.