Dear Mr. Hawkeye,
I saved a man today! Ok, maybe, saved is a bit of s strong word, but I did help the guy out. And by out, I mean literally. The said man got himself stuck in the elevator. Dumbass! Didn't he see the sign? "Use this elevator at your own risk and don't blame us for the consequences?" It's there for a reason! Why else would we use the stairs all the time? Ok, maybe he doesn't know about the stairs, because he is new here. But he can read, right?
The guy was lucky that it was my day off. Or else he would have had to wait till the evening, when people come home from work. And even then, he'd have had some trouble since only Hershel and I know how to handle situations like this without damaging anything. Daryl would probably try to break the doors with an ax, like he did last time when Merle got stuck there. You can still see the marks he left on it. Mr. Greene was not pleased, but he refused to fix the stupid thing, explaining that it would cost too much and in that case he'd have to raise the rent. That sounded reasonable – no one wanted to pay extra money.
A former tenant, Jacqui, taught me the trick with the elevator, before she got married and moved to the suburbs to live with her husband, Dr. Edwin Jenner. She was an employee at the Atlanta City Zoning Office. Quite a nice lady I must say.
Anyway, the saved man turned out to be Rick Grimes – the presumed dead husband of Lori from the third floor and her son Carl's father. They moved in a couple of months ago because Shane Walsh (Rick's best friend) wanted them to live near him, so he could always provide help, when needed. Rick was serving the country in Afghanistan and went missing after one severe attack by Taliban forces. He was declared dead by mistake. Apparently the Grimes couple had some marital problems before Rick joined the Army (guess it was something really nasty since the man preferred to run away from his wife to a war zone) so it didn't take much time for Lori to recover from her loss and start dating Shane.
And now I sound like an old gossip… Damn it! Why do I even know all this stuff? Thanks so much Dale! Dale Horvath is my older neighbor – his apartment is placed right under mine. He manages to provide me with all these stories about our tenants whenever I meet him in the hallway. I like Dale – he is the nicest guy I know, but sometimes I think his loneliness has made him overly obsessed with other people's lives. I don't even regret not having cable TV, because one little talk with the old man can easily be compared to watching three hours of some soap opera with a very twisted plot. Worst part is – I don't need this sort of information at all, because I'm the worst liar in the world! Did I mention it? Well, now you know. For future reference – if we ever meet, never tell me your secrets! If I didn't have you to tell things to, I'd burst. Maybe it's the same with Dale?
You know, at first I was a bit skeptical about this whole one sided relationship we are having. Of course, your anonymity was the main condition of our deal, but I was so curious about your true identity that I even considered doing some computer hacking in order to find out something more about you. Then again, as they say, a wise person never looks a gift horse in the mouth, so I dropped the idea. That is, I want to assure you, Mr. Hawkeye, that I do appreciate you paying my study loan and not even asking anything in return. Well, apart from these silly little letters from me…
In fact, it is a somewhat interesting experiment for me too. It's kind of nice to have someone to vent my thoughts and feelings to and the best part is that no one would judge me (you can of course, but I will never know that).
In other related news that may interest you – Morales' family from the sixth floor are moving to Birmingham. They are selling some of their stuff. Got myself a nice bookshelf and a head lamp at a very low price from them. I never cared to decorate my place, nor could I ever afford such luxury, for that matter. But something tells me that I also really need to buy myself curtains. The thicker, the better! And by "something" I mean Daryl-Freaking-Dixon!
Did I mention that our windows face each other? Well, guess what! A few days ago I noticed him smoking on the balcony – nothing unusual here, and he was staring in the direction of my apartment – again nothing illegal; but the way he was staring made me rather uncomfortable – in other words I was scared to death. It was one very hard and uneasy stare! The way predators look at their poor pray before they eat them. And it's not just my wild imagination because the same thing happened again, and again! Does Daryl have a grudge against me? One I don't know of? Maybe I've somehow offended him? Should I buy the man a fruit basket with an "I'm-sorry-for-whatever-I-may-have-done-it-won't-h appen-again-please-don't-kill-me-in-my-sleep" note? And I thought Merle was crazy!
Well, apart from that creepy serial killer's attitude towards me, Daryl is a decent man, I guess. He likes children – Carl Grimes and Sophia Peletier adore him. And I think Sophia's mom – Carol from the fifth floor, secretly holds the torch for the guy. Can't blame her – he is a rather attractive man and you should see those arms! I envy his remarkable biceps! Maybe I should start working out?
That reminds me – I should make a shopping list. Things to buy:
Curtains or blinds (ask if they have bullet/arrow proof ones!);
Dumbbells;
A new ball cap.
Because someone stole my old one! Yea, we have a thief among our tenants, it appears. One that collects red tattered caps. Because I don't see any other motive for anyone to steal that hat. I left it with my backpack in the hallway, when I went to help Rick get out of that elevator. I was absent for like ten seconds but when I returned, only the backpack was there and there was no sign of my cap anywhere near! It was my favorite one from my high school days. Used to play for my hometown's junior league baseball team. I kept the cap and the baseball bat as nostalgic reminders. Well, at least I still have the bat to protect myself with, in case someone wants to break into my apartment and rob me again.
Actually, I would've suspected Merle or Carl. But Merle is out of town (annual gala of KKK members?) and even if he wasn't, he would've taken the backpack instead of the hat. As for Carl, the boy has developed some kleptomaniac tendencies lately. Lori is at her wits end because she was summoned by his principal a couple of times earlier this year. As my professor of psychology Dr. Alice Stevens would say, it's the boy's way of attracting his mother's attention. Then again, Carl has a solid alibi – he had been at school when the crime was committed. And he likes me, why would he do that in the first place? So the mystery remains unsolved…
Oh, look at the time! Didn't notice how late it is. And I have a very difficult test in History tomorrow. Second Punic war. Got to get back to my textbook and find out who won – Hannibal or the Romans. Will write to you next week!
Your diligent student, Glenn Rhee.