Night is a peaceful time, unless, of course, you're either a demon or a fool. Only a fool with a demon as a friend would ever dare venture out in the quaint suburb area full of Bohemians willing to do anything for a quick buck. A beggar, the fool in the story, and a fighter pilot, the demon; both poor and wanting of a life outside of the town, or quite frankly, a life besides theirs now.
In a quiet alleyway with only a flickering light overhead, the only source of light until the end of the alleyway to both sides, the sounds of TV's that blared from the upper apartments. Nothing is in the alleyway, nothing living that is, until a black and white stray pranced into the alleyway with its captured prize. Unbeknown to the cat, there, behind it, stands a man over looming the cat with his hands outstretched and knees bend. He's ready to get his keys back from the little shit that stole them, for his life or the cat's, one of them will go down in a blaze of glory and the other will wither as the winner lay dust unto the other.
One step, then two, the man pounces on the cat. The cat spun its head to the direction the man came from and barely jumped out of the way in time; it jumped upon the dumpster as the man scurried back to his feet and pounced again. This time, he managed to grab the cat by its tail and pull it toward him. The cat screeched and hissed as it swatted at the man to let go, but the man kept his grip strong and unwavering. The light above went out and the man couldn't see, but he held the cat's tail like he could see; the lights came back on but the cat no longer had the man's keys. The keys, as they dropped when the light went out, lay at the base of the dumpster in a puddle of murky water.
The man reached down as he let the tail go; the cat followed his hand and jumped down for the keys. The cat, however, was too slow and the man took back his keys; the man swung the keys in a taunting manner and retracted them when the cat's paws sprung forward.
"Sorry, Mr. Cat, but you're not outwitting Friend, my friend," the man said and pulled on the collar of the bomber jacket he had on, "and that's a promise, scout's honor!" He smirked and took off out of the alleyway and down the street to the right. He would have to make it up to his date, tonight, and there was only one good way to for him.
He continued down the street, half sprinting and half strolling, too preoccupied to notice the lighter illuminating to his left. The lighter shone upon small, nimble fingers and a smooth, small chin leading up to sulky blue eyes. The eyes followed the man until he was out of view; the body moved forward and the moonlight gave a tranquil yet darkening glow to the woman's body as she watched the man continue down the street. She threw the cigarette to the ground and crushed it under her feet; there was no reason she smoked, she hated the taste of the nicotine, but just the sight of a cigarette in her mouth was enough to allow her to hold it there.
She walked the same route as, just at a lesser pace, for she knew exactly where he was going; the two are neighbors, after all. Edward Friend, as she recalls, lived in 26-B on second floor of the apartment buildings, while she lived in the room just next to his: 25-B. Early morning commute allowed for brief conversation, but Edward was always in a rush to get to wherever he was going; she did not know where, but she wished he had the time to talk to her. There was something about the first conversation that struck her interest in him, despite her knowing of his minimal thought of her.
He reached his apartment block and looked around to see not a soul around. His date left him, obviously, because he stood her up; it took him nearly an hour to get the keys back from the feline and she grew tired of waiting in the nightly weather. March and still colder than winter; the members of the apartments never had heat in the winter nor AC in the summer. Some living there call it the life of the Bohemians, while others call it a shit hole; it's the best they could afford though. Most of the inhabitants of the apartment block are either unemployed or disabled. The landlord would care less whether they live or die, just as long as they pay their rent.
Sorrowful, Edward opened the door to the apartment and stepped inside; he almost completely closed it when his neighbor put her foot in the door so she could get in. He ignored her and turned to the stairs, slouching as he climbed; she was on his tail the way up to their apartments. He stops suddenly and turned toward her; he lifted his finger and drove it, gently the first time but harder the second, into her chest.
"Why are you following me?" He said, driving his finger once more; he continued immediately: "I saw you trial me the way from the corner of Main to here. I know you're my "neighbor", but you don't need to follow me all the time like you do. Wait, let me guess, you locked your keys in your apartment, didn't you?" She nodded and he sighed, extending his arm to the right. His hand touched the knob and he turned it; the door opened by itself and he walked in. Even though she had dreamed of going into another person's apartment, it was the first time she had gotten even close enough to a guy's door for whom she actually liked.
"Have a seat," he said, "make yourself at home." She looked over at the single chair he has positioned facing the TV and back him. "Go on then, I have to cook dinner from myself. Do you want anything? I have frozen dinners that I can just put in the oven real quick. No? Suit yourself." He went out of her view; she went and sat in the single chair and saw him again.
He stood by the stove, boiling water and heating up spaghetti sauce. He put the sauce in simmer and turned to look at the guest, whom pretended to watch the TV. When he turned back to his water, she continued to watch him and the TV at the same time. He broke the spaghetti strands and put them into the water, all while stirring sauce. He moved to his left and opened the cabinet above his head; he pulled out two bowls if she did change her mind.
The water boiled and he took it off the heat and off to the side; he took out the strainer and poured the water out into it, keeping the spaghetti strands in the pot. He took his bowl, and as he looked back, her bowl and put two scoops into each, layering the top of each bowl with sauce. He picked them both up and walked into the living room; he smiled as he handed her the second bowl.
"Eat up, alright? You can sleep in the guest room for tonight; that's the second door to the left. Mine is across the way. Only come get me if there's an issue at hand, sound good? Good," he said, starting to walk to his room. "I'll eat in my room so you can have access to the tele. Oh, and when you're done, put the bowl into the sink. I don't have a dishwasher yet, and I'm not going to get one any time soon; I have to wash everything by hand, but that's my life." He reached his door and nodded good night to her as he walked in and shut the door.
The roosters always wake up the farmer, but not the alarm clock just to the right of the fighter pilot, though. It could buzz and ring without him waking up; he has to though, for today was the day. The park opens up and he has tickets mainly for the shuttle ride, which is like Space Mountain without the real ride. The CEO is very creative; no one can deny the fact with the little rocket roller coaster that only goes around the track, shaped as a circle from entrance of the station to the end, and then the ride is over. Yet, the fighter pilot does not care, he, before the war, dreamed of being an astronaut. This ride would be the closest he can get to the outer space experience.
He tossed over to his side so he was facing the outside first, then to the inside without opening his eyes. He could feel just the pillow on his face at first, and then the nimble fingers as they gently rested on his back. His eyes shot open and saw the girl from last night.
"What are you doing in my bed?" He said as he shot from the bed. "You were told to sleep in the guest room. And, well, that's just indecent. What if I slept naked or something; come on, Monica, think for once, alright?" He walked over to his dresser and she sat up.
"Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed, Ed?" She asked with a snicker. He pulled his turtle neck over his head and inserted his two arms. "Or are you just surprised because it was the first time sleeping with a girl." He ignored her remarks and put one leg into his pants then the other. He withdrew the belt from his dresser and wrapped it around the loops of his pants. Just buckling his belt, he turned to her and shook his head.
"Let's go, get up. We have a park to go to," he started as he reached down, grabbing the sheet. "Get up or I'll flip you out of bed." She stuck out her tongue and he pulled, but she came with the sheets and pulled him down to the bed.
"Only if I can sleep with you again tonight, will I get out today," she swore with a Pinkie Promise. Childish in his eyes, but it served the purpose. "Alright! Meet me at the front of the bus stop in five minutes. I need to go get a change of clothing."
"I thought you locked your keys in your apartment..."
"You would hope I did," she teasingly said, winking at him. She hopped up from the bed and strode out of the room with a slight skip. He remained in the bed and put his head into his hands.
She left his room and his apartment; she took two steps and turned to her right. Before her was the decorated outside of her apartment; streamers and deflated balloons from the party two months ago along with the withered plant and name tag on the door.
"O. Triggs," she read aloud. A shiver ran down her back, but she shook it off; it was just her imagination running wild again. She patted her pocket and realized, she really did leave her keys in her apartment. Scrabbling, she ran down the stairs and out the apartment building's double doors; she just had to get to the store of buy some freshener or deodorant and she's be good. Best of all, the store is right behind the bus stop.
She sprinted down the street and turned right; the second store was the mart and she entered with three minutes left to spare. She ran up the beauty supply aisle and up the cash register, two minutes remaining. She paid for them, put them on and walked outside; she had more than a minute remaining. The wind blew and the birds chirped on the nice, almost spring day.
She turned her head and saw her neighbor walking down the street towards her; the bus crept up on her while she stared and honked its horn. She jumped and nearly slipped on the water at her feet.
"You ok, Monica?" Edward asked and she nodded, boarding the bus before he could see how embarrassed she was. She went down three rows and sat on the right at the window; he sat in the aisle seat but leaned in toward her. The bus rumbled and shook on its way down the black as night pavement. The turn signal emitted a blood-red color against the pavement; the early morning sun gave way and hid the turn signal in its rays.