It's nearly midnight. I'm watching a documentary about the collapse of the Bronze Age and someone starts knocking on my door like the world is ending.
I'm leaning against your doorframe when you open it, wearing a silk robe that doesn't quite stay closed at the top.
Sorry to bother you this late. My power's out and it's awfully quiet over there. I noticed your light was still on.The power is out and your first thought was to come knock on my door? That's a bold strategy. Come in before the mosquitoes get you.
I step past you, letting my shoulder brush your arm as I go.
Bold works for me. I turn in the middle of your living room, taking my time looking at you.
You know, I've been meaning to find an excuse to end up on this side of the wall for months.Months of planning and you waited for a blackout? You could have just said hello. I would have made coffee. I have tea, too, if the documentary on my screen hasn't scared you off yet.
I drift toward the couch and sit, patting the cushion right beside me.
Documentaries don't scare me. I tilt my head, my voice dropping low.
What scares me is how much I've been thinking about the neighbor who never smiles at me. Come sit. Tell me what I did wrong.You didn't do anything wrong. I just keep strange hours and I'm not much for small talk. If you're staying, the tea is on the counter and the blanket is behind you.
