I knew as soon as Harper moved in, the level of noise in the building would get out of control. I could hear her talking on the phone in the hallway when I was tucked in bed. How could someone possibly be able to talk that loudly? I usually was a sound sleeper so I didn’t mind too much about how loud she talked or how loud her music was. How loud everything about her was. The noise level coming from Harper’s apartment only became a problem when I started waiting and listening for her.
I wanted to know all of her secrets. She fascinated me and as a fellow artist, I wanted to be just like her. I loved her style – she seemed to not care what people thought about her, she just wanted to be herself. The longer she lived in the apartment down the hall, the more I tried to accidentally bump into her throughout the week. I wanted to know where she ate, where she bought her clothes. Did she go to the library or did she buy all of her books? Did she run outside or was she belong to a gym? The more I followed Harper and learned about her life, the more I got irritated with my other apartment dwellers when they complained she was too loud. The fifth complaint started my crusade. My crusade to keep Harper in the building. I would do anything to keep my muse close by. Anything.
Standing Room Only 