Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 111(@200wpm)___ 89(@250wpm)___ 74(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 111(@200wpm)___ 89(@250wpm)___ 74(@300wpm)
“You, too.” We don’t formally meet. I don’t have her name, and she doesn’t have mine. We’re basically strangers who would see one another occasionally. And I’m not gonna lie, it’s a breath of fresh air. Usually, meeting someone requires a dating site. I don’t touch those at all. Too many of the guys I work with fuck with them, and the stories they have to tell are plenty enough for me. Then there’s social media, a place I don’t get involved in after the last round of unsolicited pictures of half-naked women, which put me all the way off, and I deleted the shit from my phone. My sister claims it’ll be an instant red flag when a woman and her crew run a search that rivals the FBI, which is why she told me not to deactivate my shit. I shrugged my shoulders, tossed her my phone, and she had her way with it in blocking what she called chicken something or the other.
I shake my head at the memory while reminding myself to call her sooner rather than later. At the same time, a wave of tiredness takes over. I hear a car door close, the start of an engine, and take one last look over my shoulder, noticing that the woman without a name is safely inside. She gives me another finger wave, and I tip my chin before moving on with my day.
When I make it to the building where my apartment is located, I take the stairs two at a time. Living on the second floor has its pluses: there’s no one beating on the floor up above, nobody messes with you, and the rent is cheaper. The cons: taking the stairs when you’re tired as fuck, needing groceries hauled up, and moving in and out. There’s also the sun that beats onto the roof, which drives up the cost of electricity. As for me, those issues don’t really bother me too much since my company sent me here for an extended period of time, expenses paid in full.
I make it to the landing and am about to put my key in the lock, but instead of opening the door I’m greeted with a note.
Dear neighbor,
Sorry, we haven’t met yet, and this may be a terrible introduction, but I’m at my last resort, and I’m no snitch. Is there a possibility you can lower the volume on the I Love Lucy episodes at night?
Signed,
A very tired neighbor who shares a wall with you
I shake my head, wondering what the new person is going on about. As far as I’m aware, there isn’t anything on when I return from work. With the note in my hand, I open the door, and there’s Scout, the companion who stumbled upon me one rainy night, dirty, matted, and starving. That was a few weeks ago. After a quick visit to the vet to scan for a microchip and coming back with nothing, then updating his vaccines and putting him on some high-fat puppy food to get him back to his normal weight, he became mine.
“Hey, bud, how are you doing?” I bend down, scoop him up, and bring him to my chest. He lets out a loud baroo-type howl before attacking my face, attempting to give me his version of kisses.
“I guess you had a good night and early morning,” I say. I hired a dog walker for the early hours of the evening, then pay another neighbor to take him out one last time before they head for bed. They do it again in the morning, taking him out for me, and when I make it home, he’s ready for a nap right along with me.
“Alright, shower, snack, and then bed.” I make a mental note to talk to my neighbor and should probably figure out who left the letter in order to apologize.
I rub behind his ears, and he squirms out of my arms, trying to bite my fingers. Did I mention he’s only a pup, barely four months old, and had a rough start? The minute I let him down on the ground, the zoomies take hold, as well as his voice. He won’t stop until I play with him, and as tired as I am, at least having a good morning in the form of the pretty woman in the parking lot and this little man makes it a hell of a lot better.
2
Kara
“Oh my god, the note must have worked.” I wake up on my own—no alarm, no blaring television—and feel rested for the first time in what feels like forever. I’m overexaggerating because there were nights when Nellie would keep us up every hour on the hour, I’d be recovering from a surgery, and we’d all rally on little to no sleep. I guess now that I’m older, more set in my ways, regular sleep is much needed and much appreciated.