Jin trudged up the rusted iron stairs leading to his apartment, shivering against the chill that hung from the faded blue brick walls. It was only two flights, but it was enough sometimes to double him over in a fit of gasping. He was never an especially healthy guy. These days he always seemed to catch every cold, flu, anything that floated around at the office he worked.
Atop the second flight of stairs, scrawled in black sharpie on the crudely painted aluminum door, was a rather offensive drawing. Two rather well endowed stick men in cowboy hats were giving a lumpy horse “a hard time”. “Sorry Mrs. Horse” Jin muttered as he pushed the door open.
The hall, lit only by a pair of bare bulbs hanging from loose fixtures, seemed to stretch on forever, but in reality only gave passage to 4 apartments. The two opposite to his were still vacant and likely to stay that way for a while longer. No one willing chose to live here, except for him, maybe. As he passed the front of his neighbor's door, he heard a hard thud against the wall. This was going to be another of those nights. He could tell.
He fought with the lock, carefully turning the knob. The knob came off in his hands again, nonetheless, and he dropped it in his coat pocket. At least this way it would be harder to someone to rob him again. The inside of his apartment was just as worn and bare as the outside. A threadbare rug ran the length of the entryway leading to a large room that served as both a livingroom and a bedroom. His bed lay snugly folded inside a sagging sofa that was more than likely the pride of some family's den in the 70's.
He tugged the chain on the lamp and smiled as his cat, Gilgamesh, stretched, digging her claws in the armrest of the sofa. Jin leaned down and patted her before hanging his coat and his satchel on the coat rack. He paused as a nagging pain in his side sent a bolt through him. Just as fast as it came it was gone. He pushed the button on his answering machine just as a muffled shout sounded through the wall.
Gilgamesh wove around his ankles, begging for dinner and Jin was happy to oblige as he listened.
“Hey, Jin, this is Dr. Harell again. I really need you to come in. I'll be at the clinic all day on Wednesday.”... “Jin, dude, you know who this is. It's Wednesday, did you forget? The results came in and I have to talk to you about it. Come in as soon as you can. If I'm not there I will be soon.”.. “Mr. Tanner, this is Harell Family Clinic calling to confirm your appointment for tomorrow July 16th. If you need to reschedule please do so before 5 p.m. Otherwise you will be charged a $50 no-show fee.”... “Jin, it's Dr. Harell again. You gotta come in okay. I could really get into hot water but I'm going to say it anyway. It's cancer, it's bad. You need to come in so we can talk options.”
Jin wasn't shocked by the messages. He knew something was wrong and the shape his body was in was firm proof. He undressed and climbed into the grimy shower, letting hot water wash over his emaciated form. He considered his options for eating dinner but in the end decided to go to bed early. He wrapped himself in his ever-growing pile of blankets, nuzzling Gilgamesh as she kneaded her paws in his chest.
“You're the best friend I've ever had.” he whispered. As if she understood she placed a gentle paw on his face before curling up, falling asleep instantly. The apartment was eerily quiet in the dark. The flashing lights of the busy streets outside cast strange shadows on the ceiling, moving and swaying in a silent dance. The quiet broke suddenly as something struck the wall in the neighboring apartment with such force the painting on the wall crashed to the floor.
“I told you not to fucking do that again!” a muffled shout sounded, each word punctuated with another thump. A woman whimpered as if she didn't dare cry out. Glass broke and she squealed. “Don't do that whore crying like you always do. You want to act like a whore? Spread your legs and I'll show you what a whore gets.” Jin heard more scrabbling against the wall and the woman whimpered again. She tried to say “No” but her efforts were cut short. A fierce rhythmic knocking finally forced the other painting to the floor then stopped, leaving the woman crying softly in the silent darkness.
