Lockdown | Conor Mason

Feel Something Real

I shut the door with a thwack and twisted the bolt.

My stomach gave a funny little twist. What was this weird feeling I was having? Probably social anxiety. I tried to remember the last time I'd spoken to someone face-to-face as I slid into a seat at the kitchen table.

But if it was anxiety, I thought, then why did it feel oddly pleasant?

I turned over the brown paper bag that Conor had left, spilling its contents onto the wooden table. The late day sun shone through the window across a small pile of items. Even touching the bag's papery exterior had made me feel covered with germs, so at first, I examined each item without touching it.

There was a small lavender-scented candle in a dark blue glass cup. Lovely, I thought. A satchel of microwave popcorn. Two Milk Bars - my mouth started watering at the sight. How did he know my weakness? A miniature package of ginger lemon tea bags.

And, finally, four small clear plastic satchels, each containing a pair of bright pink ear plugs. I picked up one and pulled them out, pressing the foam between my fingers in one hand and pushing my hair back with the other.

I was about to put it in my right ear, just to test it out, when the sound came.

I had to strain at first, but I could definitely hear it. It was an acoustic guitar. That wasn't anything new. I'd hear snippets of music coming from other flats before. I even could nearly make out the song.

A voice came in now, low at first, so I could barely hear it. But lovely. Wait, was that...was it...

"You float like a feather...In a beautiful world..."

I found myself standing and walking toward the wall to get a better listen. As the song progressed the voice rose, slowly but surely.

I stared dumbly at my bookshelf, suddenly wishing I had put it against the other wall, that there was less physical matter to block the ethereal sound. I stood motionless as it grew louder.

I blinked, and suddenly the voice was loud, so loud it could have been right there in my apartment with me. At the top of the crescendo it peaked.

"She run, run, run...."

Fuck! What was I hearing? The vibrato came loud and rich as the voice rose in pitch, and I stepped back, staring at the wall like it was some kind of alien being.

But just as fast as it rose, the voice fell.

"What the hell am I doing here....I don't belong here..."

The last guitar chord rung out through the air, and then he spoke.

"Sorry, neighbors. Fuck."

I jumped, looking around, my face flushing. How did he know I was listening?!

It was the earplugs, still clutched between my fingers, that brought me back to reality. I looked down at them, then up at the wall again, now silent. Silent and...lonely.

Well, I thought. If that's the kind of concert I was going to get every day, then...I suppose that would be just fine.

Clearing my throat and shaking my head, I made my way back over to my desk in the corner, and sat down to work.

--

The sound of the teapot beckoned me from the bathroom where I'd just finished my shower. I threw on sweatpants and a baggy sweatshirt and scampered to the kitchen, moving the noisy pot.

If there was a contest among flats for best loud noise, I'd certainly come in last, I thought, as I poured my mug.

The sea twinkled in the moonlight, beckoning to me as I gazed out the window, dunking the teabag absently. It was only March, but if there was one good thing about this week of weird isolation, it was that it had been unseasonably warm. I pushed my bare feet into my slippers.