[personal profile] tasha_pasha
The knock on the door startles me awake. It's late. Or early. I'm not really sure anymore. I stumble through the dark apartment, allowing the thin strip of streetlight that slips beyond the blanket clad window to guide me to the door. I crack it open slightly, paranoia keeping my body behind the door as I glare out into the dingy hall.
"What do you want?" I grate out harshly to the figure before me. She is slight of frame, dark hair spilling into too bright hazel eyes. Gray shirt, faded jeans and bare feet shuffling nervously at my glare. She grins, darts her eyes down the hallway, licks her lips and clasps her bony arms tighter across her chest. I recognize her vaguely as the neighbour from across the hall; the latest in this building of transient souls.
"Can you cook?" she asks me suddenly. I blink at her, confused.
"What, like a turkey?" I ask her stupidly. She laughs, a harsh sound in the empty hallway.
"No man, I mean can you cook?" she repeats, putting an emphasis on the last word. Her eyes flick up and down the hall as she pulls a baggie from her pocket and extends it towards me hesitantly. I look down, noting the pale skin of her arm marred by two small pin pricks nestled next to the crease of her elbow before I examine the contents of the small plastic bag gripped tightly by her long fingers. I grin as I open the door wider, beckoning her to enter. "Come in" I say, "I'll cook us up a fucking feast."



February 2016

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