“Brutal.”
Ellie shifted on her fire escape, the wrought iron cold even through her sweater. From here, she could see his window—three floors down, two across the courtyard. The light was on. Of course it was. It was two in the morning. sammmnextdoor
“Because during the day, you’re someone who goes to work and pays bills and probably has her life together.” His voice dropped. “At night, you’re just the girl on the fire escape who leaves her window cracked even when it’s freezing. Who plays the same sad song three times in a row. Who—” He stopped. “Brutal
“Who what?”
Ellie closed her eyes. This was the game. The one that had started three months ago when a package for 4B had landed on her 4A doormat—a vintage vinyl of a band she’d never heard of—and she’d knocked on his door just to be nice. He’d answered with flour on his cheek and a half-baked sourdough in his hands, and somewhere between his apology and his offer of a still-warm loaf, Ellie had forgotten why she’d ever thought city living meant being alone. Of course it was
Ellie’s stomach flipped. June. Her sister. The one who’d moved three thousand miles away six weeks ago and left a silence Ellie hadn’t known how to fill.
“You could just slide it under my door,” she said. “Like a normal neighbor.”
“Brutal.”
Ellie shifted on her fire escape, the wrought iron cold even through her sweater. From here, she could see his window—three floors down, two across the courtyard. The light was on. Of course it was. It was two in the morning.
“Because during the day, you’re someone who goes to work and pays bills and probably has her life together.” His voice dropped. “At night, you’re just the girl on the fire escape who leaves her window cracked even when it’s freezing. Who plays the same sad song three times in a row. Who—” He stopped.
“Who what?”
Ellie closed her eyes. This was the game. The one that had started three months ago when a package for 4B had landed on her 4A doormat—a vintage vinyl of a band she’d never heard of—and she’d knocked on his door just to be nice. He’d answered with flour on his cheek and a half-baked sourdough in his hands, and somewhere between his apology and his offer of a still-warm loaf, Ellie had forgotten why she’d ever thought city living meant being alone.
Ellie’s stomach flipped. June. Her sister. The one who’d moved three thousand miles away six weeks ago and left a silence Ellie hadn’t known how to fill.
“You could just slide it under my door,” she said. “Like a normal neighbor.”