Colette, a young girl who sees the good in everyone and everything, tries to befriend her new neighbor who just moved in-a brooding 28 year old named Casey. Despite his best efforts to maintain his solitude, her positivity and bright presence start...
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It's now an hour later, and Casey and I finished our dinner a while ago. I've made my way onto the floor so he can lay on the couch, working on my assignments from school as the TV plays for Casey.
Finally finishing my last question, I stretch both my arms above my head, causing a big yawn to escape. Grabbing my phone, I look at the time; it's already 10 pm. Looking behind me where Casey is, I notice he's asleep. Looks like the Benadryl finally kicked in. Turning around to face him fully, I put my knees up and lay my chin on top and watch him sleep peacefully. Not in some creepy way, just to admire him.
I trace his features with my eyes from his full eyebrows to his sharp nose, noticing the couple of small, flat moles that dot his cheek, as well as one on his chin and above his right eyebrow, and two on the side of his face. I then move my attention to his closed eyes with his long, thick lashes. From there I really start to take in his deep under-eye circles. With a deep sigh, I think about how I noticed them at the bar as well. He must have been really tired and sleep-deprived for a while now. Feeling bad, I'm glad he can finally get some rest now.
Looking up, I notice a piece of Casey's hair falling onto his eyes. I reach out and gently move it away, smiling softly to myself at the sight of him sleeping peacefully. As I watch him, I can't help but think back to Mr. Pierre's words. He's right—I haven't had many people in my life, and those I have had often ended up disappointing me.
I gaze at Casey, wondering if he will be any different. Will he become another fleeting presence in my life, leaving me disappointed and alone once again? Shaking off the thought, I turn my attention back to the room. This place really is a mess. Getting up, I decide to set those thoughts aside for now and help clean up his apartment since he's sick; plus, it's no trouble.
Starting with our dirty dishes, I try to be as quiet as possible to not wake him up, but the TV playing mostly muffles any noise I make, thankfully.
After cleaning the dishes and putting away all the leftover soup. I can't help but notice the abundance of empty beer cans and bottles that litter the room. They're everywhere, on the table, the counter, even on the floor. Opening the fridge, I find it packed with more.
I try not to jump to conclusions or judge, but the sight does raise some concern. Is this just a one-time thing, or is it a regular occurrence? I know people have different ways of coping with stress or dealing with things, but I can't help but wonder if there's more to it.
I hope he's doing okay. I hope he's not using alcohol as a crutch or a way to escape from something. I want to be here for him, to support him in any way I can. But right now, all I can do is clean up and hope for the best.
Once I finish cleaning the apartment, I also take in the many boxes scattered around. Curious if I can help unpack a few things for him, I approach one and carefully open it, still trying not to wake him.
Opening one of the boxes, I'm surprised to find it's just filled with books and used journals. Slowly grabbing one of the journals, I trace the spine and turn it over, curious about what he used it for.
