Standing outside in our towels, the smell of sulfer and smoke biting into the clean of our well-washed skin, we heard the low, far-away cries of a fire truck and of the firehouse alarm. From a fat, bullet-sized hole on the lower bottom side cellar window a trail of gray smoke plumed out, as if from a pipe.
"It smells like an electrical fire of some sort," I said, the faint odor of burnt rubber wiring settling into my heightened sense of smell. Maggie sniffed in and nodded her head in agreement. The middle aged guy from second floor west walked towards us, his grin to our eyes, his eyes to our bare legs and loose towel cleavage. Maggie's hand went up to tighten her towel and my left eyebrow went up as I looked intently at him, with a smirk to meet his grin, gathering the rest of his intentions. He seemed playful and harmless.
"So, hey, I heard yelling and door slamming this morning. Are you single now, Maggie?" he was looking at me when he said this, which made me wonder how much he'd actually heard from his apartment directly below Maggie's. In my mind I pictured him standing on a chair with a cup to the ceiling, and then shook my head at the paranoia.
"No, no, no... just a disagreement. It will blow over," Maggie said and brushed the words he'd said away with her hands to the air. I looked at her but she wouldn't look back at me.
Posted by nft at June 17, 2004 06:56 AM