lamitres



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    Vi ignored him as movement outside the window caught her eye and she leaned over to see what it was. Her neighbor looked up, their eyes meeting for a brief second. A scowl appeared on the young woman’s face and Vi quickly moved away from the window and took her seat again at the drumset.
    “Fuck me,” she mumbled.
    Ever since her neighbor had moved in a couple of months ago, it had been nothing but complaint, complaint, complaint. She hated Vi’s music, she hated her friends. She hated the way Vi’s cooking smelled (when she had the misfortune of burning it once or twice). She had threatened to call the landlord when Vi flipped her off after a petty argument about whose responsibility it was to bring the trash cans to the curb. Vi couldn’t stand her.

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    26 Feb 2023