The Girl Next Door

The Girl Next Door

I could hear her playing Portishead this time. An hour ago it was Thelonious Monk. If it wasn’t for her taste in music, I’ll be cursing these thin walls.

I have shared the elevator a couple of times with her. She has that brooding type of face but very pretty. Always in jeans and a white shirt. Smells lightly of tobacco. Not exactly my type but she sparks my interest every time. She never looks at me. Not once.

After a couple of minutes, I hear her having a heated argument with someone. Boyfriend maybe. I can’t make out the conversation because it wasn’t a constant squabble. Every now and then she will say something in a very irate tone. Then I hear her screaming and the sound of glass breaking on the floor. Not exactly thinking of what I’m supposed to do, I stood up from the bed and knocked on the wall between us.

“Are you ok?” I call out. There was silence on the other end. Then, Glory Box plays at full volume. A sign I should leave her alone, I guess.

For I’ve been a temptress too long…

“Yes you are.” I say to myself. I imagine her long black hair and her intricate looking arm tattoos. I should ask her name at least.

I wake up around 2AM to the sound of her sniggers and another round of talking. Does she ever rest? I tried going back to sleep.

I hear moans on the other side. I lie there in the darkness of my own room listening to her until she finishes. That’s one lucky guy.

For days, my routine includes her and what she is up to. Sometimes the bickering would last for hours. Yelling and breaking of whatever is being thrown. I should be concerned but it was all too entertaining.

My landlord comes to see me regarding a broken pipe in the building. I tell him everything is fine and maybe he may want to check on the girl next door. “She has been crying from another lover’s quarrel.”

“What are you talking about? She has been living alone in that apartment for years.” He frowns at me like I’m the weird one and walks away.



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