She was a photographer. Always making things immortal with her camera. She'd never alter them on computers; Never used black and white or sepia. The picture would always be protrayed as it was...the only difference being that the image would stay there forever, encased in her little world. Her camera.
I respected that.
She lived in the apartment room just above mine, I would always have the tv on real loud, getting a lot of complaints from the other tenants but I didn't care. To hell with them. The tv blocks out every other noise that bleeds through the walls, and I'd rather not hear their daily shit. Besides, it was through that loud obnoxious sound coming from my television that I met her.
It's tough to remember but I guess I could relay it...I'll do the best I can. I wasn't that good in english class, nearly failed everything back then, so it won't be to pretty.
-tap tap tap-
Nothing to get up about...
-tap tap-
...
-knock knock knock-
Godammit!
-Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!-
"Alright! Hold on!!"
I had thrust the door open and glared straight down in the sweetest eyes; I called them bumblebee eyes. My heart burns whenever I think about them and I think about them every time I wake up in bed...when my mind clears. There they are, peering up at me a sugary brown with golden edges.
"Do you know how late it is?" He tender voice, stretched out and weighed down by sleep.
"Naw," I replied," I don't exactly have it on me."
"It's three in the fucking morning and I really need some sleep. This is the third night in the row, Mister Wolf." I loved it when she spoke like that. Her voice meant to be used on innocent children, now cussing out an old dog with a strange seriousness that was obviously foriegn to her.
I laughed like I always did. Whenever someone scolded, or snapped or made something out of me...I always felt the need to laugh. Maybe it's some sort of nervous twitch.
"I'm sorry to hear that." My talent seemed to lie in sarcasm and cruelity. Still does. "I can't exactly help you right now, I mean I'm no doctor and I'm not sure how to handle insomnia. It can make you insane you know."
"Mister wol-"
I shut the door on her before I could hear any more. Then I waited...watching her through the peephole. She stood staring at the door as though she half-expected to open from sheer brainpower. Then, after realizing that telepathy seemed to have no effect, she lifted her hand and...
-...knock knock-
"Still there?"
She pushed herself past me and proceeded to search around the room.
"What the hell are you-"
"Shutup!" She whipped her head, spotting the source of her disturbance with a predatory smile. She determinedly waltzed over to he television and tore the plug from the wall. "Much better," She said with satisfaction.
"You...you could have just asked."
"You wouldn't listen."
"Not true," I of course lied.
Her smiled melted under frustration.
"If you ever think about watching the news at around four in the morning, please-PLEASE try to keep it down. The walls and cielings are like paper and unlike you, Mister Wolf, a lot of people enjoy sleeping."
"Bitch.."
"Goodnight, Arnold." I shuddered at the mention of my own name being used against me. She placed the cord into my hand and sleepily left the room.
I expected the door to be slammed in my face but it was closed with good intentions. I say "good intentions" because every way she moved seemed to convey her thoughts. She did everything ith reason.
Her name was Mina...
And from the moment I met her...
I knew that not a day would go by where I wouldn't see her face.
