My Neighbor, Mr. Rogers

Chapter One - "Hell- Oh"

'This will be easy,' I encourage myself. 'You just have to smile and give him and/or her the plate... Well, you should probably also say 'hello' or something like 'welcome' might be nice... Why in the world didn't I figure out what I was going to say before now?' I sigh a bit dramatically. People really aren't my thing. New people that I've never even met, let alone seen are like Lego assembly instructions for a thousand piece Millennium Falcon set...without the pictures- in other words: an impossible task.

But this is something I can do.

'Just be friendly. They might need it...or they might be a drug dealer who would gladly kill you in a horrific and gruesome manner and dump your remains in a tub of acid. Okay. No more 'Criminal Minds' for me for a while.

'It's not like I'll have to ever interact with this person again, I mean, we only live right across the hallway from each other now. So if I make a complete idiot of myself, as per the norm, then this totally won't result in a perpetually awkward situation for me. Right. I totally believe myself.

'Oh, just shut up and knock on the door, you overgrown flower! It's Saturday afternoon, there's probably no one home anyway! Who would be locked up in their apartment on a day like this? Well, I would, but most people would probably have plans.

'True.

'I suppose that makes me feel a bit better. And at least this way I can say that I tried and then I can eat all of these cookies myself. Excellent plan, I approve.'

With a newfound confidence, I rap soundly on the door in front of me. I count to ten. Still no answer. Well, I guess this means that I can gorge myself and have a Doctor Who marathon this afternoon. I suppose there are some selfish benefits to being unselfish.

As I start to step away from the door to return to my apartment, I hear something that immediately fills me with dread- the chain lock of my new neighbor's door is sliding open. My gaze drops to the plate in my hands as I hurriedly force a smile, hoping I don't look as sick as I suddenly feel. The dark brown door slowly swings open.

"Hi, I-," I start trying to introduce myself, but I don't make it very far as I look up at the stranger before me.

'Leaping leptons!'

This guy is clearly a model. He's probably about twenty-five and he's, well, perfectly symmetrical for starters. At 5' 5" I'm exactly average for a woman (yes, I've googled it), but this guy is head and shoulders above me and speaking of shoulders, his fill the doorframe. His sandy blond hair is neatly combed to the side and his clear blue eyes are looking down at me in polite patience.

'Oh, yeah. I was saying something, wasn't I?' I'm not off to a great start.

"I-I'm your neighbor from across the hall." I hook a thumb over my shoulder towards my front door. "I brought you cookies!" I raise the plate as obvious proof. Apparently I'm five.

'Sound like an adult, I know you can. You know, maybe.'

"As a w-welcome to the building...sort of thing," I continue as I give him a shaky smile. His prettiness is certainly not helping my social anxiety. "Mrs. Finkle, the lady that lived here before you, she brought me homemade cookies when I moved in a couple weeks ago. I-I thought, I mean, it made me feel welcome and like I had a friend in this building and city, for that matter. I guess I just figured, well, it seems like the neighborly thing to do."

'Oh my gosh. Stop. Rambling!'

During my verbal diarrhea I had shifted my gaze from his eyes to a point over his shoulder. I have trouble maintaining eye contact. But as my spew of gibberish comes to an end, I glance back to his face.