Being Jefferson :002

"No! I've had enough."
The fact that she said it like she was being bullied, startled him. He figured he'd use another approach.
"C'mon honey, eat your food, you're looking so thin."
"You know I want to be a model, models don't eat much." she said, looking up from her Android phone, and then went back to it immediately. He was pushing his luck here, he might as well try a little harder.

"I've told you Anna, models aren't thin, they're curvy and have flesh on their bones, but you look like an anorexia patient." she laughed then, why what he'd said sounded funny to her, he didn't know, but he smiled too.

She was sitting across the table from him, at the restaurant on Canaan Street, and she looked stunning with her makeup on, all the while taking selfies and doing God knows what, on her phone. When he'd asked her earlier, she'd said it was Snapchat, and accused him of being old, for not knowing what the app was about, he didn't argue.

"Well, if you're not going to eat that chicken, I will." He said, as he slid her tray towards himself. He thought he heard a knock, it was faint at first, he heard it again, this time louder, he turned to see who would knock on the door of a restaurant, and slowly the bright view of the restaurant vanished, and he was in his dimly lit apartment, he could still hear that knock on his door. Of course, it had been a dream, beautiful things like being with Anna, only happened in his subconscious state.

Looking through the peephole on the door, he couldn't find anyone standing there, whoever it was had left, thinking he wasn't in, good. He knew it couldn't be Joe or Nate, because they had a knock code. He'd bet it was a neighbor who wanted something, these neighbors who were always looking for a means to start a conversation, and then gossip later.

He'd been living in this apartment for three years now, and had seen tenants come and go, but there were the ones who seemed to have no plans of moving. They were the gossip crew, who thrived on talking about the lives of others, just because they didn't have one. Why couldn't people just mind their damn business? He'd heard rumours about himself being a sadist, and at another time, gay. Even if he were gay or bisexual, or transgender, how was it anyone's business?

It was true that he lived a solitary life, and he only greeted other tenants in the mornings and evenings, on his way out or in, but he wanted it that way, he didn't have the time for familiarity. He'd planned, moving by the end of the year, to a better place. He hoped all went well, so that he could stick to that plan.

The old wall clock chimed 7pm, and he left the bed. he washed his face, threw on a vest, and got out his Nike. A good run, would help him feel better, he thought as he set out, with his headphones playing Eminem's Revival album.

Lucent Britex.