stratum

maybe you didn’t get much sleep. maybe you stayed out all day because you live alone and turning the key some days and walking in seems like too much. maybe the woman who lives below you who puts sad notes on her door like “I’m not going out too much these days so please don’t leave food outside my door” catches you outside wearing four layers of clothes and says “I didn’t complain about the noise above me” even though no one has asked you to keep it down. maybe you say “I’m hardly ever home”. maybe she licks her lips making you want to turn away and says “let me ask you something, do you really think we ought to be sending people into outer space”. “let me get the door for you” you might say as another neighbor cuts in front of you, the neighbor who cut in front of you in the laundry room six months back sending you off to the laundry-mat where your cell phone got stolen. maybe the fucker doesn’t bother to hold the door and as you go to open it your umbrella gets tangled and jams your wrist which has been sore for weeks for some reason. maybe he says sorry and you keep walking and hear him put the mail key in the slot as you climb the first set of stairs. maybe you go inside and check your e-mail and no one has e-mailed you for hours and you wonder where all your friends are and why they aren’t paying more attention to your moods. or maybe everyone e-mailed you, but not that one person you were thinking you’d like to get an e-mail from because there’s always that isn’t there. maybe you spend a bit too many hours of your life in front of computers.