If your blinds look like this, you need to mind your damn business.
But if your blinds look like this on an inconsistent row, someone is in yours.
I looked under my bed before I got out of it, afraid a cold hand would grab me by the ankles. I live alone. No one else has a key. Like a kid who hasn’t learned how to do the math in their head, I can count on my fingers how many people I invited over to my apartment in my 4 year residency here. All with 2 indexes and 2 thumbs to spare for a square.
I’m 5’10. Whoever this was, was at least 6’4. What could have they been looking out for? I stood on top of my paper shredder to match their height. I don’t see anything. Whoever this was has been in my apartment so long I need to ask for half the rent. You should see the wear and tear of the blinds. A few more bends it’s gonna need tape.
I look down and see what it was they were watching for: Me. We don’t have our own parking spots but whenever one outside my window is vacant I take it. It’s not a bad neighborhood but I like to keep an eye on my car incase I need to jump out my third floor window onto the entrance roof below, landing on top of my car as the jacker pulls off. Them coming to a hard stop. Skirrrrrt like a long dress. Me flying forward into a mountain of Hefty bags like the garbage man when no one’s looking. Wiping the dirt off my shoulders, chasing them on foot until I see a car I wanna steal and telling the owner who conveniently has one foot on the pavement, the other in the car that “I’m FBI. I need to borrow your sweet, sweet ride.”
Just when I tried to turn this slasher flick to an action movie it went right back to a horror …
I have lived alone long enough to know when I’m not alone.
Who turned up the thermostat? I’m getting goosebumps.
Who’s chopping onions? I’m crying.
Who left the oven on? I’m sweating.
Why didn’t I put a mirror on the wall I’m staring at so I can see behind me? I’m a bad decorator.
Whose hand on my shoulder? I believe I can fly!