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I can’t do it.
Fuck.
But also, I can’tnot sleep.
It’s then I decide.
I can’t do this forever, pacing in a hall like a crazy person, mumbling to myself, trying to get the nerve to ask a party to keep it down.
I need to go talk to them.
This can be another version of day one. The first day of the rest of my life, where I refuse to let my concern for making others feel uncomfortable mess with how I live my life.
I’m just as important.
It’s crazy that I feel the need to remind myself that.
I lift my hand to knock, to bang on the door, and I feel a breeze.
As my arm lifts, the silk moves too, and I realize I’m still in my nightie.
What is wrong with me?
I need to go upstairs, change, and then bring the cookies around to thefrontof the shop like a normal person. Try to get their attention, kindly ask them to turn down the music, and start a great friendship.
So what if we started off poorly? We both were taken aback. He probably was tired and cranky, the same way I am right now.
Yes, that’s it. I’m sure my new neighbors are perfectly kind and reasonable.
Understanding, even.
Maybe we can create some kind of partnership—get a tattoo and a free cookie!
But first, I need to turn around and put on actual clothes. I start up the stairs, getting up two steps, eager to hide away with my new plan.
Then I hear it. The click of the door.
No, no, no, no!
“You okay?” I hear, my back to the voice, andfuck, fuck, fuck.
I can’t believe this is happening to me!
Why does the world fuckinghate me?
“Hey, uh, hi,” I say the words up the stairs, trying to pretend this isn’t happening.
I can feel the cool air from the air conditioning in his shop leaking out through the door and licking up my legs and the underside of myfucking asscheeks,which I’m 99% sure are sticking out and now staring straight at this man.
Jesus fucking Christ.
“You okay?” he repeats.
I turn around slowly, holding the cookies like an idiot and trying to stretch a calm smile on my lips.
“Uh, yeah,” is all I say, like some kind of idiot who can’t use words.
Some kind of idiot who is standing in an entryway, in a nightie, holding cookies at nearly midnight.
