My Drabbles/Shorts

The front door finally gives after a moment of pushing, heavy metal dragging loudly over the permanently scratched frame. Like most people in the city, you look forward to getting home after a long work day. But, for you, the best moment of your day is when just reach the lobby to check your mail.

Smiling, you walk across the narrow lobby and toward the shining wall of mailboxes. You unlock your box and, like clockwork, the guy from apartment 4E steps up a few feet away before you’ve had the chance to flip through all the junk mail.

It’s been three months since you moved in and not a single work day has passed where he wasn’t there to greet you with a smile and timid “hey”. At first you found it a bit creepy, but he never made a move, or said anything weird, he barely looked at you long enough to make you uncomfortable.

“Please tell me you put this in my box?” He asks pleadingly as he adjusts his glasses.

“Uh,” voice stutters as you read the flyer in his hand, “sadly, no. I am not a member of a doom metal band.”

You fight a smile as he chuckles. Damn, even his laugh is adorable. You flick through your mail one more time, trying to drag out the time before he slams his mailbox closed. You follow quickly, but not too quickly, you don’t want him to think you’re a creep. Stuffing the junk mail into the recycle bin, you hover a couple feet behind him as you wait for the elevator.

He hums along to the song on his single earbud and fidgets with the keys in his hand. Perfectly casual, like he doesn’t even realize you’re there. You take the time to appreciate the view his tight jeans give you, a hint of a shapely firm ass and thighs. He definitely works out.

The elevator dings and you suck in a quick breath as you timidly enter the small space beside him. He smiles at you as he presses your floor and then his floor without prompting. You both have done this so many times it doesn’t need to be said anymore.

“Thanks,” you mutter automatically as you stare at your shoes and hold your purse strap tightly.

“My pleasure,” he returns, smirking when he catches you look over.

The elevator dings and you step out with a nervous, “goodnight,” and small wave.

“See you,” he smiles brushing back his curly locks.

God, why can’t you be cooler? Why can you never think of something funny or interesting to say to keep him talking? Always safer to stay quiet than embarrass yourself, you suppose. You drag your feet to your door, sighing at the prospect of wasting another lonely night with junk food and tv. If only you could be spontaneous for once in your life.

—

Friday! Bittersweet as you celebrate the end of the workweek but also the last day you get to see neighbor 4E for two days. You go to your mailbox and smile as you shove in the key and twist. You pull out the measly stack of junk and flip through it slowly as you glance around the lobby for him. He must be late. You move to the trash can at the end of the row, and use up some time cleaning out your purse. Still no sign of him.

You slowly read and toss each piece of junk mail until you are left with a single envelope, probably more ads. Disappointment tugs at your shoulders as you sigh at the empty lobby. He’s not coming.

You tear open the envelope, ignoring the hand written address on the front and pull out a single piece of lined notebook paper. You unfold it with a frown and begin to read the hastily written note in black marker.

“Hey, 3E! I have to go out of town for a day or two and didn’t want you to think I ditched you on our nightly elevator ride. Truth is I am a coward and couldn’t get the courage to ask you properly on a date. Which makes the fact that I’m asking you for a favor even more embarrassing. See I left my cat, Padme, at home alone and I thought that maybe you could stop in and check in, maybe give her some catnip from the cabinet above the stove to keep her happy. If not, it’s totally cool! She’ll survive she has food and water. But, if you are feeling up for it, I keep a key taped under the door mat. Thank you so much! I’ll see you soon – Peter (aka 4E)”

You read the note through multiple times in disbelief, laughing again at the post script reading “just please don’t steal my stuff, my cat is very possessive of her things.”

You bite your lip as you think it over, your first thought is instantly, “Aw poor kitty.” You don’t really see a downside, in fact, he’s the one risking the most by trusting a total stranger to enter his home. But the curiosity compels you into the elevator where you promptly press the button for the fourth floor.

You stand outside, staring at the 4E on the door and listening for any indication he might be home… just incase the note was left by mistake. Nothing but silence for several minutes. You nudge the mat with your toe and flip up the top corner, instantly spotting the black duct tape camouflaged across the rubber bottom.

You glance down the hall, nervous to be accused of breaking and entering as you pluck the silver key from under the tape. With a deep breath you unlock the door and poke your head into the dim apartment. Nothing but the stove top light and one standing lamp in the corner to light the entire space.

The floor plan is similar to yours, open kitchen and living space with a bedroom and bathroom down the short hall, though his has a distinctly more bachelor-pad vibe. The dark leather furniture and exposed brick seem to absorb what little light there is and you squint as you look around for the cat.

“Hello?” You call nervously through the stagnant air.

You step inside and close the door, the last thing you need is to go searching for an escaped cat. Seeing his home feels oddly intimate, especially without him there. It makes you fidget, like you’re doing something wrong even though you had in fact been invited.

You get distracted by the modern decorations combined with the nerdy memorabilia. Clearly, he has some style based on his neat placement of his most prized possessions, like the signed replica of Captain America’s shield on the wall, something you would definitely consider stealing.

A soft meow cuts through the silence and your eyes spot the small tabby cat blinking at you from the end of the dark hall.

“Hi, Padme,” you lilt sweetly. “I didn’t know your dad was such a nerd. It kind of makes me like him more now.”

She meows again, clearly unimpressed by you and skitters into the dark back room. You call after her and follow without thinking, listening for her soft mews and the clack of her claws on the wood floor as you get closer.

You reach around the door frame, feeling around for a light switch but find none. “Spspsp, come on Padme. You want some catnip? Come on out baby.”

There is a scuffle and a startled cat cry from within and you panic as you move inside holding your hands out to keep yourself from running into anything.

“Kitty? Here kitty, are you ok?” you worry as you timidly take a couple more steps forward, sweeping your hands out in front of you.

You pull your hand back with a gasp as the feel of something wet and sticky. You pause and slowly put your hand out again, “Padme?”

Your hand runs into a long string like line, and your first thought is a clothes line, but why is it sticky? Ick, maybe it better not to know why. You go to release the line but your hand refuses to open. You bring your other hand up to pull it off of you but you end up trapping both hands to the line.

Panic flairs instantly as you tug against the cord, kicking out in fear as more parts of your body become tangled in some sort of web-like trap. But that’s not possible, or at least it shouldn’t be.

“Help! Help me!” You scream as your body becomes completely bound in the gluey strands, but no one hears you.

Hours pass and your voice turns scratchy, burning with pain as your body slumps in exhaustion against the web-like hammock. The harder you fought the more secure your bonds became until you are completely paralyzed and hanging there dumbly.

The morning light rises, and your eyes adjust to the dim light, black out curtains keeping most of the light out even as the peak of the day comes and goes. You have no idea how long you’ve been there crying and pleading to the silence, but as the orange sunset shines through the tight blinds you finally hear the door open.

“Hello?” You croak, every inch of you aching and stiff as you are forced to listen to the slow steady footsteps.

They seem unhurried, relaxed even, though you know they must have heard you. A light switch is flicked on in the hallway and bathes you in a bright light from behind. Your eyes watch as a shadow grows along the ground, the most you can see as your head is stuck facing the other direction.

“Peter?” You whimper quietly as you feel a heat along your back.

He chuckles against you ear and whispers darkly, “caught ya.”