I can hear her when she comes home. I hear the steps she takes as she approaches her door, the faint jingle of the keys in her hand as she struggles to find the right one. There's a long creak as the door opens, one she doesn't seem to care about.
But it's later that really counts. I feel a sense of calm knowing she's there, that when I'm sitting on my couch, she's doing the same. I positioned my couch where her's is. I know when shes watching television. Our building is shitty, but I have her. When she moves across her apartment, I can follow the floor as it creaks. It's like walking through an old house, though I doubt she hears it.
When she watches TV, I sit in the dark and listen with her. I sit in the spot that would be next to her if she were down here or I was up there, though that will never happen. I sit in the dark and imagine she keeps me company; I imagine that we're friends. Sometimes she falls asleep with the TV on, and when all of the other sounds in the building have faded with the day, it's just me and the dull droning.
Tonight she's pacing. She's moving all around, but spending extra time in the kitchen, provided that her floor plan is the same as mine. I think it is. I wonder what she's doing. I'd say she's cooking, but I can't hear pots or pans. I don't know.
I'm not a strange guy. Not really. I don't follow this woman around. I've only ever seen her once, and that was at the mailbox. I'd been living here for a couple of year before she moved in. At first, I was annoyed by the noise; she's a heavy walker. But with enough time, you can acclimate to anything. I don't know what I'd do without her.
That's not to say I wouldn't be completely justified in stalking her. She's a beautiful woman. A little bit older than me, I think. When I saw her that one time, she looked disheveled, like she'd just raced into work after sleeping too late. But she was rushing home, so I don't know what was happening. Her eyes are warm, lively. She's got the kind of eyes that you'd want in a stranger sitting next to you on a plane. I only saw them for a moment, but they stuck with me.
But it's later that really counts. I feel a sense of calm knowing she's there, that when I'm sitting on my couch, she's doing the same. I positioned my couch where her's is. I know when shes watching television. Our building is shitty, but I have her. When she moves across her apartment, I can follow the floor as it creaks. It's like walking through an old house, though I doubt she hears it.
When she watches TV, I sit in the dark and listen with her. I sit in the spot that would be next to her if she were down here or I was up there, though that will never happen. I sit in the dark and imagine she keeps me company; I imagine that we're friends. Sometimes she falls asleep with the TV on, and when all of the other sounds in the building have faded with the day, it's just me and the dull droning.
Tonight she's pacing. She's moving all around, but spending extra time in the kitchen, provided that her floor plan is the same as mine. I think it is. I wonder what she's doing. I'd say she's cooking, but I can't hear pots or pans. I don't know.
I'm not a strange guy. Not really. I don't follow this woman around. I've only ever seen her once, and that was at the mailbox. I'd been living here for a couple of year before she moved in. At first, I was annoyed by the noise; she's a heavy walker. But with enough time, you can acclimate to anything. I don't know what I'd do without her.
That's not to say I wouldn't be completely justified in stalking her. She's a beautiful woman. A little bit older than me, I think. When I saw her that one time, she looked disheveled, like she'd just raced into work after sleeping too late. But she was rushing home, so I don't know what was happening. Her eyes are warm, lively. She's got the kind of eyes that you'd want in a stranger sitting next to you on a plane. I only saw them for a moment, but they stuck with me.
