Truly Madly Ghostly

Chapter Three : One Step Closer

Charlotte was moving about in her bedroom, going to and fro to carry her books over at the roundish shelf she bought from a garage sell. Her study desk was right next to the shelf, with a table lamp and her laptop on top of it at one end.

As she put the books on one of the racks, she decided she loved decorating home—her own home.

Minutes later, slow strumming of guitar strings reached her ears.

Charlotte paused, her one hand raised to put another book in it's designated place. She turned her head around. The balcony door was half ajar and from here she could see moonlight spreading out onto the balcony floor.

Smiling, she quickly put the book in place and got up to walk through the expanse of her bedroom and moved towards the source of the music.

And there he was.

"Alex." And she couldn't help the feeling that rushed back to her as the first time when she had uttered his name. It was uncanny, it was pleasant.

She smiled when he turned his face towards her.

Stalking forward, she rested one hip against the steel railing, imitating him.

He had stopped playing the guitar and was just looking her way now, his gaze still possessing a little bit of the wonder from earlier.

Creative people are weird like that—she reinformed herself in mind.

"Thanks," she said, crossing arms and glancing out at the park which was now a playground of man-made lights chasing away darkness.

"For what?" his voice was hushed. It made her feel as though he was speaking with her in secret.

"For listening to my request." She bit the corner of her bottom lip. "You've not sung at night in the last two days."

His fingers strummed down the guitar chords in a fast motion. "You don't like me singing?"

It was more like he stated it as obvious than a query.

She protested hurriedly, "No. No! You sing good, like a pro."

"Is that so?" His fingers strummed down the chords in a quick motion again.

She noticed the smirk on his face. And shone by the moonlight--yet another expression on his face stole her next breath. She realized she was becoming increasingly greedy getting his expressions in these addicting little dosages.

"I can never back away from praising a talented person, just as I can hardly suppress my temper." She smiled easily.

"You wear your heart on your sleeve. Good for others, bad for you." Another fast stroke of guitar strings.

His side of the conversation with her seemed like a song.

"You mean to say it's easy to break my heart?"

"It's easy if one put their heart to the task." And he was a romantic, too.

The fast strokes of guitar slowly but suddenly turned into a pleasant tune. Charlotte didn't know when the reckless strokes ended and the indulging chord began.

What song was it? She could not perceive. But not knowing did not stop her from appreciating the melody.

Her fingertips drummed on the railing. She tilted her face away from him and looked up at the moon. It was not bad, having a singer as her next-door neighbor, she decided.