Basic Neighbors

Chapter 2

As the first rays of dawn timidly peek through the previous renter's curtains, the distant hum of traffic blends seamlessly with the chatter of early risers, weaving a familiar melody that resonates through the bustling streets below.

In this cozy shoebox apartment, I felt energized. Not just by the city's vigor seeping through every crack and crevice, infusing the air with anticipation and possibility, but because I actually slept well despite spending a solid 5 hours on a blow-up mattress. I've always been the kind of person who can sleep just about anywhere, and last night was no different. Don't get me wrong, I had been exhausted from moving my entire life across half the country, but my superpower of getting a good night's sleep definitely helped. I was ready to start my new life, right after a cup of coffee.

I rummaged around my suitcase for the Keurig. It wasn't in the first place I looked, so I kept unpacking, peeling away the life I knew, layer by layer, item by item. My fingers stumble over the tape on a box labeled 'Kitchen,' and it gives way with a satisfying rip. From a bubble-wrapped cocoon, I liberate a coffee mug—'World's Best Boss.' A hollow laugh escapes me. That world is gone.

Then with a loud crash, a frying pan filled with utensils falls to the hardwood, followed by a sauce pan and baking dish stuffed with soup bowls. I winced and looked at my phone to check the time. It was nearly 7:15 a.m. but I became overly concerned with how thin the walls of this historic building might be.

"Need a hand?" The familiar voice sails in from the hallway, light and unexpected.

Who was this guy? Was it always going to be like this? I suddenly wondered what else he, or anyone else in this building could hear. Would I have to find a job just so I had a place to poop in peace? I made a note on my phone to get a white noise machine. A knock on the door gave me pause and I looked out the peephole. There he was, Alton, leaning on my open door frame, a cascade of sunlight crowning his blond head. His blue eyes crinkle with a smile that could make this city feel small. "I heard some banging. Figured you might want some help."

I tuck a stray brown hair behind my ear, suddenly conscious of the smudge of dust on my cheek. "Oh, um, thanks." My words are a clumsy dance, out of step with the rhythm of this new place.

"Alton," he offers again, hand outstretched, bridging the gap between stranger and neighbor.

"Jade," I reply, my hand in his feeling like a kite caught in a sudden gust.

"Welcome to the block, Jade. How'd you sleep?" There's a warmth there, a solidness to his presence that roots me to the spot. He surveys the chaos of my unpacking, the detritus of starting over strewn around us. "New York can be pretty overwhelming at first."

"Feels like it's pulling me in a hundred directions," I confess.

"Ah, but that's the beauty of it, isn't it? Every direction is a new chance." His voice has a melody that turns the air softer, lighter. "Anything you need, just holler. My door's always open."

I was beginning to think it really was, but I was still desperate for a cup of coffee.

"Actually," I said. Then abruptly, "You don't have any coffee, do you?" I realized I was still holding my ridiculous mug.

"How about we grab some food? There's a little cafe around the corner. Best bagels you'll ever taste," he suggested.

There was something about his friendliness that I had never experienced. Oh my gosh, I thought. It all makes sense; his good looks, wit, charm, and kindness could only mean one thing – he was probably gay. He wasn't like any of the guys I had worked with or knew from back home.

I pause, the offer dangling like a lifeline—or is it a challenge? My appetite for adventure wars with the knot in my stomach, a silent echo of my mother's cautionary tales about strangers. But Alton's eyes twinkle with the promise of something genuine, and my heart skips at the thought of discovering hidden treasures in this concrete jungle.