3.When I got home, there was a moving van outside of my apartment building. The side of the van read Big Help Moving and Storage in large orange lettering. I drove into the parking lot, found my space, number 13, and parked. As I opened my car door, I felt extremely aware of my appearance. I hadn’t seen who was moving in, but the idea that they would see me made my chest tighten up, just like it had at the doctor’s office. I closed the door and looked at myself in the window. I combed my fingers through my hair slightly and adjusted my clothing so everything looked perfect. Thankfully, the black Lincoln Navigator my parents gave me was tall enough that when I primped, no one on the other side of the car could see me. Once was I satisfied with my appearance, I began to walk toward the main doors. The doors were propped open. My chest tightened up even more and it was hard for me to breathe or think. I felt like I was walking through a suffocating fog. Some part of me wanted to see who was moving in. The much louder, more anxious side of me didn’t want to be perceived by another human being even for a moment. I made a b-line through the doors, walking as fast as I could while hoping to appear natural. In a split second decided to take the stairs. I only lived on the third floor, and I knew that whoever was moving in would be using the elevator. It only took me a few strides to reach the stairwell door. When I pulled the door open, I could hear the sound of people descending the stairs. My heart jumped and brought me along with it. I know soundproof stairwells have a purpose, but I wish they didn’t exist. I would have chanced the elevator over walking up a stairwell while a stranger was descending. Instead of doing the smart thing and turning around to take the elevator, my body went on auto-pilot and I started ascending the stairs in a state of panic. I couldn’t focus on anything around me but my breath, and as I put one foot in front of the other, I tried to breathe along with my movements. I was staring at the steps as I marched upward when I became aware that the other people were close. A smudge of colour entered my peripheral vision. I looked up and saw him. He was so beautiful, it hurt to look at him. Shiny brown hair, bright blue eyes, and the kindest smile I've ever seen. As we passed, he smiled at me. I just stared at him and kept walking. You can’t know how hard I kicked myself after that. You know when a stranger smiles at you, and you’re trying to process the fact that they’re even looking at you, and before you can smile back they’re gone? Well, when I finally reached my floor, I had to stop on the landing and actually look up toward the ceiling, as if toward the Gods themselves. Why couldn’t I have just smiled back? Embarrassment washed over me. Upon reaching my door, I took out my keys and began to sort through them. There is a large jumble of them — they’re easier to keep track of that way — and as I looked for my house key I realized I had never seen that guy before. As I turned my key in the lock, I couldn’t help but wonder if he was the one moving into the building. Despite the awkwardness of staring him down when he smiled at me, I still hoped he was the new tenant. Maybe I would see him again, I thought, and finally be able to act like a human. He had been with a couple of other people, but they were a complete blur to me. All I could see in that moment was his face and his gorgeous bright white smile. I continued to kick myself as I entered my apartment and closed the door behind me. That night as I lay in bed, I couldn’t get his face out of my mind. It was a refreshing change, really. I had been thinking of my ex for so long that it felt good to think about someone else. My best friend, for the sake of the story, let's call her Mildred, always tells me that I need to focus on something other than romance. She’s probably right. The room around me was dark, and the silver light of the moon was flooding in through the window. The light cascaded over my bed and stopped just before my waist. I pulled one of my hands out from beneath the blanket and reached toward the light. Somehow the air the moonlight touched felt cooler than the air around it. I glanced up toward the window and I could see the dark navy blue of the sky. Looking at the sky always makes me feel small, and makes my problems feel just as small as I am. It helps me relax when I feel insignificant. Things that are insignificant don't need to be worried about. I closed my eyes and imagined myself floating in space, completely weightless. No air, no light, no sound, just endlessly moving through the cosmos. I wondered if that was what death felt like — just energy moving through the universe. Eventually, I fell asleep.
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AuthorStory fanatic. Published in the Camosun College literary journal Beside the Point. Former Senior Staff Writer at The Martlet. Current and future freelance writer. Archives
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