Neighbors
Let's get along
As of the last few months I've been held hostage by a neighbor. She hasn't kidnapped me or anything like that. I just can't move around as freely in my building as I once did. She lives across the hall and frankly she terrifies me.
You wouldn't expect her to be as ornery as she is. She has these big brown eyes and long brown curls. She could be quite charming if she wanted to. Her looks however, are deceptive. If I'm about to go out the door and I mean hand on the doorknob and I hear her door slam, I freeze. I put my things down and wait five minutes. In these five minutes I am hoping she has made her way down the elevator and into the parking garage as far away from me as possible. If I meet her downstairs and she's about to get in the elevator, I opt for the stairs. I then have to race up several flights of stairs to ensure I don't meet her as she's coming out of the lift.
A couple of weeks ago her mother shared that big brown eyes is a breast cancer survivor. She apologized for her and explained she hadn't been the same since. I felt bad and tried to sympathize but she's just such a bitch. Shouldn't someone that survived breast cancer live in gratitude? You survived, I want to scream. I don't because her mom won't be able to stop her from coming at my ankles. You miss are no Lady and with an attitude like that you will never find your Tramp.
The cubicle jockey job is only a cover. Writer of poems, observations, and short stories.
Posted in: apartment livingneighborsshort story