Upstairs

He heard her immediately. He had just put down his bags and was checking the light switches. The footsteps were unusually heavy and he would have never realized it was a girl unless he had not met her a day later. She was on the elevator, going to the floor above his. She had looked past him. He had instinctively known. She kept him company. He was new, didn't know a soul and didn't go out much except to interview for gigs. Excepting the afternoons, she was always home. They both had their little rituals. She woke up at 9.00. He woke up slightly earlier to hear her wake. He would then start the coffee machine. While she showered, he smoked on the balcony. And then she would swirl around on the bedroom floor, dancing, to the same song everyday. He had his breakfast in bed. Evenings she would busy herself in the kitchen for half an hour maybe. He brought in take-out and ate it perched on his kitchen counter. And then he would get out his guitar and play. She was usually silent then. Sprawled on the bed reading a book maybe. He went to bed around 12.00, about the time she would start pacing upstairs. He would wake up some nights, disoriented, drenched in sweat, the world he had known still haunting him. Her steady pacing above would lull him back into familiarity. He would hear faint rhythmic thuds sometimes. A typewriter? Really.

He met her once more before the "incident". In the elevator again. Peeping out of her bag were flowers and a loaf of bread. She wore dark glasses. He knew she still looked straight past him. She started early in the kitchen that day. By seven, the noises started to lighten and he heard the shower. Then he heard her pace next to the door. For five straight hours. Up until the time he was ready to go to bed. And then she was silent. He couldn't sleep. He didn't like the misstep. He wanted to be home again.

He woke up with the sun in his eyes. And then he heard her shower. He springed up, smiled and stepped out on the balcony with his smokes. It was all alright. A week passed. He was hurrying up the stairs. She never left the apartment now. He had been finding more gigs and had to be out more. He didn't accepted free drink offers anymore and always rushed back home.
"Hey man, did u hear?"
"Hey"
"The girls upstairs. They found her body today."
He gasped.
"Dead for a week, they say"

They carried him to his bed. He had regained consciousness, but lay staring at the quiet ceiling. He finally dozed off sometime near dawn. Woke up again, with the sun in his eyes. She stepped in between him and the window, looked him in the eye and slightly winked when she said.
"So you know."
"I would have missed you". He smiled and let out an indulgent sigh.