Patrick's Surfaces IV

Once my computer finished humming down, the silence was encompassing. I put my empty whiskey glass down on my wooden desk and the deep "thang" echoed for countable seconds. Then all I heard was my heartbeat.

I couldn't move from my chair. I still felt watched. My iMac was perfect in it's black and white contrast, but I still felt watched.

I gasped short when I realized that I missed her, that I wanted her back, that the silence was loneliness. I had hopes that included her.

I thought I should go for a run. Do the shopping. Anything out of the house. Or drink myself into a long sleep. I had choices and I listened to my heart beat.

Then I could hear my neighbor do dishes on the other side of my wall. I had never heard him before. He was only ten feet away from me, certainly sometimes much less than ten, and I had never heard him before.

I smelled baked cheese and wondered if it came from next door. Maybe he was having guests. What kind of man baked cheese in a greasy, cheap apartment and did the dishes while it was in the oven?

And whistled. He was whistling. "A Kiss To Build a Dream On." He'd never whistled before. If I could hear him whistling, he could hear my music. I'd been playing that song constantly for two weeks. I almost began to sing along with him, out of habit. "And my imagination will make that dream come true."

What else could he hear? Had he heard the conversation I'd just had? Did he hear the word "cacophony?" Did he hear the word, "composite?" What did he know about me? I knew nothing about him, never heard him before. I only knew what he looked like. I didn't even know his name. It could be Patrick for all I knew. He could be Patrick for all I knew. He might be Patrick and he might have been watching me so closely that he'd know the surfaces of my cheeks are not smooth. That I like white ankles. He might know everything.

I knocked my chair over in my panic getting up, grabbed my keys, and unbolted my door. I heard him unbolt his. I froze. I didn't open my door. I couldn't possibly see him. I bolted it again. He bolted his.

I tiptoed back to the computer, turned off its speakers, and turned it back on.

"Hello, dear," she said instantly. "Don't ever do that again please."