Vacant Chapter 2 Window

Im staring, which is some pureg I dont make a habit of. Eye shock typically invites people into conversations, and Im not a fan of chit-chat. I take up up in the doorway with an cumbrous pause, like Im unfamiliar with waving as an appropriate means to say hello. My pause before I answer her is a pace alike long, and the situation is somewhat uncomfortable as I stand thither waiting for her to offer up to a greater extent information. More importantly, I want to know wherefore shes bang on my door, and I hope its not so we mess get to know separately other.Since several more seconds pass with out(a) further exchange, I finally cave in and offer myself up. Hey, Im Ethan, I say wanting to keep it simple. I dont want to get sucked into a conversation with her, but I dont want to be rude, either. She can tell Im a little put out with her comportment, so she gets reclaim to the point. The last thing I need is an overly perky neighbour who thinks were pals.Sorry, I was dependab le having disorder getting a window open. Its freeing to be a hot one, you know, and I dont work the electrical energy acidulateed on yet. They want some freaking deposit since I dont have a credit history. Its like, Hello, Im sprightliness in a crappy house, in a crappy neighborhood. If I had good credit, I wouldnt be living here. Anyway, I want to get the window open to get air despicable through, and I think its painted shut. I dont want to be all damsel in distress, but I cant pry the darn thing openMy thoughts trail off and I realize this is the most anyone has say to me in years. Perky young lady is still talking, but Im continuously distracted by her mere presence and the fact that her chest spills over the top of her tank. Shes pretty cute, but I try not to bear on her appearance as lustful thoughts wont lead anywhere good.So you think you could come servicing me? I know I missed some information in there, but Im not going to ask for clarification or for her to rep eat it.Sure, no problem.I follow behind her, but at a safe distance. I dont want the offer of my help and me being polite to some girl mistaken for flirting. It sounds conceited, but its happened before. Its better not to give them any sense of false hope. I judging my own business and live my life today will be no exception. She shows me the window in question, and sure profuse, its painted shut. I roll my eyes at the incredibly inept and lazy sustainment people for doing a half-assed paint job.Um, Ill be right arse. Ill have to get something to cut this open. I turn to head out her front door, but she stops me.Oh, wait. Like a box cutter? I have one of those. I think the maintenance people left it here by mistake. She rummages in a kitchen drawer and so presents me with a paint covered box knife. As I knead the window, she asks me several questions related to the area. My answers are succinct since Im not really receptive to the Getting-to-Know-You game. The Twenty Questions moderator doesnt get the star though, and keeps on with the game. So, how long have you lived here?A a couple of(prenominal) years.Do you know many of the neighbors?I dont talk to the neighbors much, so I dont know anything about them. Im hopeful my continued shortness helps her get the mesmerism that Im not interested in a conversation.Wow, youre pretty quiet, huh?Yeah.So, what do you do for fun?Im caught off prophylactic by her question. I cant resound when Ive had fun, so Im not sure how to respond. I stand up straight, bowl my shoulders back and craning my neck in a stretch, attempting to buy a little eon for my answer. While I dont particularly care what this girl thinks of me, I dont want to come off like a summation loser, either. Look, Im sorry, she says. I didnt mean to pry. Ive bothered you enough this morning. Youve been so nice, helping me out and all. Im gonna she trails off and I go back to working the window, popping it open a few seconds later.Ill chaffer y ou or so, I tell her, aerodynamic lift the window to its fully open state. She quickly dismisses me with another small wave, and I leave to go back to my own little corner of the earth. Despite the fact that Ive been in her unit for less than five minutes, it doesnt run my notice that theres no furniture or a TV, just a mattress on the floor of her bedroom. mayhap the moving truck with her stuff hasnt arrived yet, I think to myself. In the back of my mind, I know there isnt more stuff coming. People like us dont have stuff or the need for moving trucks.Im lying in bed, thinking about the stupid question she asked me. What do you do for fun? How could such a simple question send me into a tailspin?Thats when I hear a whimper. Its been a while since anyones lived conterminous door, and the last guy who lived there was never home, so Im used to quiet. The walls are thin in apartments like this, cheaply built and economically priced rental units. Much expense was spared in their co nstruction. Im legitimate we share no more than a few two-by-fours and two slabs of sheetrock as the wall. It doesnt provide any more privacy than that found between bedrooms in the equivalent home instead of two separate residences. I turn my head, thinking it will improve my ability to discern what I think Im hearing. It doesnt, but then I hear muted sobbing. That can only mean one thing new neighbor girl is crying. I turn away, wanting the sound to stop I dont want to be involved.The next morning shows no signs of life from my neighbor, but thats no surprise. The noise coming from her side of the duplex unbroken me up well into the night, so Im sure shes sleeping in. I, on the other hand, take part in my free exercise routine running. I do this early in the morning for two reasons one, I avoid those who may feel the need to hassle me for money. They are not early risers, as hassling is a mid-morning and post-lunch activity. Two, it gets hot as fuck here in the summer, and ru nning in 105 degree temperatures is just stupid.I crest the hill on my street, nearly completing my three miles, and see her setting out the trash. New girl is looking around nervously, probably in hopes of going undetected since shes barely garbed in her tiny shorts and tank top. Its not leaving a whole hell of a lot to the imagination, and my mind wanders as I catch a glimpse at her ass. I see her throw a couple of empty boxes to the curb then turn and rush intimate. Im close enough that I can see the blackened bottoms of her feet as she scurries inside, then wonder how often she goes without shoes.A few days pass before I see her again as I return from my run. This time shes leaving a few plastic grocery sacks out for the trash. Once again, shes dressed in the same tank and shorts she wore on Sunday. After my cool down stretch, I make my way inside and gather my things to shower. Only then does it occur to me that I havent heard the water turn on in neighbor girls unit at any p oint since she moved in, not even a deal flush. The only sound I hear from her side of the wall is the crying each night. I recall her statement about not having electricity. Im guessing she doesnt have the water turned on yet, either.A drag in forms in my stomach.Dont get involved. Keep things simple. Take care of yourselfI cant help it and walk out my door, knocking on hers seconds later. It takes a moment before I realize Im only wearing my shorts, but its too late. She opens the door a crack and eyes me.Ethan, she greets, and then opens the door a little wider, looking around cautiously.Emily, right?Yeah. Whats up? Shes smiling again, just like when we met.I noticed that you, umdont have electricity yet, and you dont have water either, huh? She bites the inside of her cheek nervously.No. Her reply is so small, just like she is, and I can tell shes embarrassed.Come on, I say, motioning for her to follow me. You can shower and wash your clothes at my place. I pay a flat fee for the water, so you using it wont cost me any more money.Dont get involved. Keep things simple. Take care of yourselfIts too late, though. Im already involved. Its no longer simple, and for the first time ever, Im offering to care for someone other than myself.