APARTMENT 2E

APARTMENT 2E

words ingathering

Tuesday, 3:25 PM

And so it ends . . .

the book began.

She stopped. Closed her eyes, her hand resting on the page. Listened to the sounds of Eidolon, the life of the building more stealth than surprising. A board creaking. A pipe clanking somewhere distant and buried, the sound soft. The calm hiss of a radiator and the closing of a door down the hall.

It was rarely the stomping of a neighbor’s feet or the sharp, heated conversation of a quarreling couple. On Eidolon, it was always the building that spoke. And it was in the quiet behind closed eyes where she could hear it best.

If she chose.

Today, she did not.

And so it ends, she read again.

Days ago, she’d paused, the tome nestled in the crook of her elbow, thumb planted on the page. Days ago, she’d waited, aware the old guy lingered near, on the periphery. Like a shadow or a stain.

He’d given her this bone-white gift, the old guy, armed with the toothless grin of a man who’d long se