This lonely won’t leave me alone

Life in the city.

My bedroom window is big, and I don’t have any curtains yet. It’s maybe seven, eight feet above street level, low enough that I make awkward eye contact with passersby regularly.

Late Sunday night, and I hear this conversation.

A man and a woman, obviously returning from a date. An early date; this is obviously not an established relationship. They’re still flailing around in that giddy, inept phase.

The man is talking, fumbling. No game at all, I can just imagine him glancing around, scratching his head, jamming his hands in his pockets.

I assume they’re just passing by, and so don’t even look up from my Transmetropolitan. Just another pair of people cruising by on a city night. People I probably wouldn’t like, if I met them.

But lo, the girl must live in my building, because they sit there and yap. She’s a little too articulate, and talks about her trips to Spain and Brazil with lazy metropolitan arrogance. The guy tries to be witty, and she laughs. He must be hot, because she likes him and he obviously has no game.

“I had a good time tonight.”

Durrrrrrrrrrhurrrrrrrrrrrrhurrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. My face sinks into my comic book. Get away from my window you swine.

“Me too.”

That’s right it’s Sunday night and I’m reading comic books. Shut up and let me tell the story. You asshole.

“We should get together again some time.” Good line, you bumblefuck. How old are you, six? Come on man, you’re killing me. Say something cool.

“Yeah we should.”

“What’s your schedule like this next week?” What’s your fucking schedule like? Oh man you’re fired. Seriously. You’re not planning a budget meeting, you filth. You’re a disgrace to my half of the species, and I pray for your death.

She keeps laughing. I hate the world, and pull a pillow over my head, making a sort of head sandwich between comic book and bedding.

“Muffle muffle muffle muffle.”

“Muffle muffle giggle muffle.”

This isn’t really achieving the desired effect. I remove the pillow.

“Yeah, he he. It’s, I had a, you know, had a good night time. Time tonight.” He says.

She talks some more, about whatever drivel my urbane wool-wearing brunette neighbors talk about. Blah blah blah blah blah.

Unable to cope with the situation, my brain makes a valiant attempt to escape out my right ear. Straining and squishing, it makes a desperate bid for freedom. I jam my finger in my ear, trapping it. A little blood leaks out onto my hand, but my mind is intact. My brain goes nowhere without me.

“Give me a call. You know, when you’re free.” He says. You spineless shit, you don’t make her call you. Grow a pair.

“Giggle giggle.”

Rage like the wrath of the Old Testament God pounds in my heart. I’m at a loss as to why, specifically. But it’s certainly there.

I roar something vulgar and charge the window.

“You people disgust me, and made my brain try and escape from my head! Begone from this place, and I hope all your children have birth defects!” I scream.

I drop trow and press my ass against the window, two feet from the lovers’ knit-beanie topped heads.

Jesus God this glass is freezing. Buck up, man, it has to be done. It has to be done.

I wait a moment, and pull up my shorts. I turn and scrawl “dloC ecI” into the steam ass print on the frigid glass, and flip them the bird.

I hate you people.

I need curtains.



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