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Before Luke, I was satisfied with just the microphones.  I’m an auditory person.  You know, they say everyone has one sense that is keener than the rest.  For me it’s my hearing.  I like to listen.  Visual people are lucky.  They can find their cars when they come out of Market Basket.  I can’t.  I have to look around, sometimes wander.  But I like to listen. 

But Luke wanted the cameras.  They say men are visual, hence the obsession with porn.  So I went along with it.  And if it turned Luke on, even better.  I could always count on multiple orgasms after he spent a few hours at the strip club, and if live video of our neighbors pleasuring each other generated the same type of energy without the strippers and wasted money, I was to be a happy woman. 

I really had been happy just listening; I never should have let Luke in on my secret just because he was a god in bed.  He is a visual person and he had to watch.  Now everything has gone to shit and I’m going to have to kill him.  Perfect. 


13 Months Ago


My new neighbor Hanna is definitely on something.  I don’t know if it’s meth or coke, but the way that girl moves, she is flying high.  I‘ve already heard her in the middle of the night, vacuuming or taking a shower.  Once enjoying the company of a man, but definitely not sleeping.  She has peaked my interest.  I would like to become her friend.  Hear her stories.  I have to find an opportunity to invite her over.  But for now I have plenty to do.  Moving sucks. 

I’m unpacking a box of new dishes when I see her.  I’m lucky enough to have an apartment on the first floor, so I have direct access to the parking lot.  But this means I also have a lovely view of said parking lot as well.  She was getting into her car, a shiny blue Audi four door.  I decided that I would keep an eye out for her, since she never seems to be gone very long. 

Two unpacked boxes later, I was outside having a smoke when she rolled back into the lot.  She stepped out of the car and looked at me, her eyes red rimmed and completely glossed over.  She took two stumbling steps toward me and then fell sideways against her car, slid forward and landed face down on the black top.  As I ran over to her, I was ecstatic at how easy making my way into her life was going to be after all.  After this, I could embroider “New Best Friend” on all my clothes if I was so inclined.  Thankfully, I’m not.  But I was in. 

She had involuntarily tossed her keys toward me when she fell, and I grabbed them on the way over.  I picked her up and said all the right words, unlocked her door, and led her inside.  I set her safely on her couch and paused.  I had never been inside her apartment before.  It stunk.  Like cigarettes and neglect.  Nothing as bad as rotting food or cat piss, but disagreeable all the same.  She was leaning back into the cushions with her eyes closed and I worried for  a moment that I had missed my chance, she would sleep till morning and have no memory of how she got home, let alone how she got inside her apartment.  But then she blinked slowly, and said, “You’re the girl from next door right?
“Yes”
“Thanks”
“No problem.” Whew.  She was still with me.  “Can I get you anything?”  I ask vaguely, taking a closer look around now that her consciousness had been established. 
“I could use a glass water” she replied, “with ice?”
“Sure.”  I didn’t need to ask where the kitchen was, our apartments were mirror reflections of each other.  And since our kitchens were really “kitchenettes”, there were a limited number of cupboards inside which she might keep the glasses. 

After a long sip, she leaned forward and rubbed her eyes.  “So you moved in like four days ago right?”  she asked in a vague, toneless voice.

I nodded agreement, waiting to see if she would go on.