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I contemplate ways of getting in without being seen. I don’t just want to see Lyr, I want to interact with her. Could I simply phase through? Sure. Is that gonna freak the girls out when a man randomly walks through the wall of their apartment? Most definitely. Spirit or not, it’s common courtesy to knock or be really clever about said entrance. After nixing the climb through the vent, slipping in through a window, and picking the locks, I land on the only logical choice—pretending to be a repairman. Easy in.

After a trip to the gas station and then Lowe’s, where I stole an electrician’s uniform straight off the rack, I return to the apartment dressed as an electrician with my dusty, crumbly gas station granola bar. I use all the energy I can muster to bang obnoxiously on the door. The pounding echoes stupidly loud throughout the stairwell followed by concerned whispers permeating the air. A rush of wind slaps me in the face when the door whips open. Dee.

The moment we lock eyes, I think I’m done for, but she just stares at me blankly before she jabbers out, “Who the hell are you?”

I’m Ryan and I’m about to fuck your roommate… or something. In any situation, wearing a fake mustache over a real mustache sounds incredibly asinine, and it is, but I need a certain pair of women to not recognize me.

“Name’s Ryan. Someone relayed to me some possible wiring issues in this part of the building. The complaints stem from the restaurant below, but I figured I’d check in here too, in case the wiring overlapped. Good chance.” I shrug and slowly enter, one foot at a time, as Dee waves me in.

It’s not my first time here. I stand hesitantly in the kitchen, and visions of Ellie dance through my mind. Ellie loved to bake. Ellie loved to eat. Ellie loved to bake and eat and spin around on glittery red toes that glinted off the sunlight coming through the only window in that area of the apartment. Proof of her twirls were etched in powdery swirls tracked all over the hardwood.

“The box thingy’s in Lyr’s room. Closet.” She says robotically.

I lunge forward, too ready to see Lyr again, when cackles and snorts resound off the ‘haven’t-always-been-yellow’ walls.

Whirling around at a snail’s pace, she says, “I know it’s you. I can’t remember your name and I don’t care to. What the hell are you doing here? How do you know which room is hers?”

Her words are sharp, like a bee sting on my tongue. I literally cannot stand this woman. In fact, I loathe her.

Glaring at her with every fiber of my being that I don’t have, I snap, “I don’t know who you think you are, but you’re not Lyr’s keeper and you sure as hell aren’t mine. Mind your fucking business.”

Dee is someone who knows exactly what buttons to push and how to press them. I’m not sure what I’ve done for her to figure me out the way she has, but I need it to stop. She’s like a pubescent teen—confusing and mean as hell.

“Watch the way you talk to me… or else, stalker.”

She could say a lot of things about me, and they’d all be true, but stalker isn’t one of them. I’m… inquiring. It’s like shopping—like already knowing which piece of merchandise I want to buy and being ready to take it home with me. Except Lyr isn’t merch, she’s something far more valuable; a diamond in a sea of cubic zirconia.

“Or else what?” I whisper-shout.

She glares at me as she speaks through clenched teeth.

“Or else… I’ll tell her she’s dead.”

“What the fuck do you mean, you’ll tell her she’s dead? You’re honestly gonna tell me she doesn’t know? I don’t buy it.” I say, feeling confused, but not willing to let Dee see that.

“Well, it’s true.” She says nonchalantly.

“Prove it, Cruella.” I can’t help but challenge her.

She’s a pain in my ass, and I have no problem with being the hemorrhoid in hers.

She squints at me before screaming, “Lyyyyyyyyyrrrrrrrrrr!”

Lyric shuffles into the kitchen, her hair thrown in a messy bun, dressed in all black.

She stares obliviously down at her phone when she yawns the most lengthy yawn and asks dryly, “What?”

Dee whines, “Honey, what all have you eaten in the past few days?”

Lyric abruptly stops looking at her phone and scans where we’re standing. She’s mesmerizing. I don’t know if there will ever be a time where I’m not enamored by her.

“Wait. Who is he?”

She nods in my direction, and the words spit like rapid fire from Dee—The Magic Dragon.

“Electrician. Answer the question.”

She recoils at Dee’s keen reply. I get the impression that Lyr is so much better than her. I wonder why she puts up with her at all.