It had to be three or four in the morning when he heard it. SMASH!!! Well, he didn’t really hear it, more like felt it. It jolted his psyche enough not only to wake him up from a very deep sleep, but to make him immediately sit straight up in his bed. He sat there in the dark, ears cocked, listening. He had no idea where the noise came from, or what he should do about it, if anything.
He’d had a bunch of trouble sleeping as of late too, he hoped he’d be able to return.
He looked at the alarm clock on the nightstand. Two-fifty-three AM. He got back under the covers and tried to close his eyes. Suddenly he heard walking. Well he could hear her feet hit the ground and her walk from the bedroom to the bathroom and turn on the fan. Then the water. Then the toilet flush. Then her feet dragging heavily to the kitchen.
He closed his eyes tighter.
He began to doze, then was roused by what sounded like voices- like she was talking to someone. The footsteps would stop, then the murmuring would start. He threw the covers down, heavily signed, and got up in his bare feet to walk out to the living room. The microwave on the counter said three-ten AM. He opened his front door and took the steps up two at a time then turned the corner, stopping in front of 3C.
There was some rustling and the door opened to her. In her nightgown and with a cigarette hanging out of her mouth.
“Yeh, whaddya want?”
“You’re feet, they’re too heavy,” he said, avoiding any eye contact with her glare.
“You’re gonna have to stop saying that I told ya.” She puffed on her cigarette and blew smoke in his face. “I mean, what do you plan on doing about it? I told ya time and time again you gotta stop saying that.”