The Neighbour

Src

I have never liked the jealously green grass, the sad blue sky or the sun staring into my eyes. From the age of nine, the four walls were my friends and I never went outside. They have a term for it now. Agoraphobia. I have no fears, it just doesn't seem right to willingly go out into the unpleasantness that is the world. I research and write articles on economics for a living. Enough to keep me enclosed in a safe box.

Most people my age have gotten married, had children, but I suppose in order to ask someone out, you have to go out. Which is something I avoid at all costs.

I wish I could talk to her. I feel the presence of this woman next door. I've heard her humming when she moved in. There were raucous parties. I could hear a crowd playing some sort of murder mystery game. Blood curdling screams, and maniacal laughter. Her sounds kept me company. Talking to her boyfriend, their fights, her wrenching sobs when she lost her job, but nothing compared to the quiet when she lost her child. This was a week ago. I think her boyfriend has moved out. I can hear footsteps sometimes but nothing other than that.

Listening to her felt like having a friend. I shared those joys and sorrows, unbeknownst to her. Often, I think of going and introducing myself. But the time is never right.

Her silence weighs heavily on me. It is a friendship even if a trifle one-sided. All her friends seem to have deserted her.

Sleep seemed to be toying with me that night, with her too because I heard her pacing around. I had a little bit of a headache so I took some medicine and forced myself to sleep. As I dropped off in the wee hours of the morning, I hoped with all my heart that I could comfort my friend.

---

This morning when I opened my eyes, the clear blue sky taunted me. I rubbed them vigorously, not this nightmare again. The walls seemed non-existent, as if I had X-ray vision. As I was pinching myself everywhere, I heard a laugh.
It was my friend. We were connected, it seemed for she could see through walls and so could I. She came tentatively towards the side of the wall, and I also moved closer. The physical wall separated us but we could talk like it wasn't there.

"How are you?" I inquired. Something in my expression must have given away that this was not a casual question but deeper.

"Jobless, childless, loveless." she replied.

"Not mindless or lifeless, eh? I said.

She looked at me curiously and shrugged.

To cheer her up I thought I'd tell my journey.

"I was nine when I had my first panic attack, the fire alarm had gone off and I had to come out of my recess hiding spot. I collapsed on the ground. My parents were called and I woke to my mom and dad looking scared. Then began the counselling sessions. There was nothing wrong with me but the world foisted what it thought was normal on a helpless little boy. It took me years to get here, but I'm glad I did. I found my calling, everyday I spend time writing my epic."

I showed it to her. We talked for hours and hours.

I had skirted around the topic but I asked her after a while, "Why are the walls in your room padded?"

"I killed you yesterday." She smiled.