Something about Victor’s stories is that you always find a slip at the end… 🙂 Here’s another one. Enjoy!
Saturday morning. Tranquil. Me, in bed. Lounging. Music in the background. Inhale. Exhale. This moment should be frozen. Savoured. My neighbour doesn’t think so. I open on the eighth knock. She knows I’m in. I see her lips move, her voice a meaningless echo in my head. It takes a while for some words to register. I do not belabour my mind to connect them. Her voice drones on. Incessant. I’m getting antsy. Too polite to slam the door in her face, I nod in a way that suggests comprehension. She stops talking. I assume she’s done. As the door slams, the word ‘rude’ filters in. Too bad. I am half-way across the living room already.
Ah, music. Soothing. I drift to sleep. Short-lived though. Somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind, I sense a presence. I open first one eye, then the other. Emem is smiling at me…
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