NEIGHBORS

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Amyra steps out of her apartment with strands of hair falling over her face, luckily the rest was in a, somewhat, tamed bush. She huffed looking down at the barely a matching outfit with the semi-coordinating colors of army green and navy blue. She would be better dressed if she had proper sleep.

Locking the door to her apartment, Amyra yawns, stretching out into the air, popping the knots in her back while doing so.

"Well, howdy neighbor," Jack chipper voice rings through her ears.

She wanted to look up and kill him with a stare, but there would be no use. Science hasn't made that possible yet.

"Don't talk to me fuck boy," Amyra grumbles.

"Aw, don't be like that. Did the land lord not tell you why your apartment was so cheap?" Jack asks.

His voice was filled with sarcasm as if he was mocking her naivety. The sneer on Amyra's face didn't wipe off, but she stood there wanting to know exactly why her particular room was cheaper than the rest.

"It's because of me baby. I have many... scandalous adventures at night so the rooms closest to me always have a discount. You should thank me." Jack winks.

This made Amyra glance at him. Jack was only in low hanging jeans showing off the many marks and smears of lipstick on his chest. Amyra saved her breath by scoffing at the man, especially when his girl stepped out looking embarrassed.

Turning away from them, Amyra made her way to the elevator down the hall. Stepping into the silver walled machine, she didn't have the strength to turn around as she placed her head on the cold metal. Trying to muster up the tiniest bit of energy she had left, seeing as even looking at her bloody neighbor kills brain cells.

What ever happened to guys only lasting five-minutes? Or — at the max — thirty-minutes? Jack fucked his fling until the break of dawn where they finally took a rest. They didn't stop, just took a rest before attacking each other like rabbits once more.

Amyra whines in tiredness as the door opens and she stumbles out of the elevator through the parking garage. Looking for her car. It was a white 2014 Honda Civic with a nude interior. She's had it since the end of high school. The car itself holds many memories and sadly she had to change the plate number from her parents death date to keep Tristan away.

Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, Amyra starts up the engine after. Pulling out of the garage and making her way on to the ridiculously bust street. She was heading to What The World See's headquarters, the local newspaper for the city.

She worked their as an editor and a theater reviewer. Though both were held to two different standards, she couldn't help wanting to multi-task to her greatest. Her Boss, Michael, saw her as an overqualified individual anyway and that somehow got her both jobs.

Parking her car, Amyra steps out with her bag and locks the doors behind her. The building was only a story tall with grey cement walls. The glass doors held the newspapers logo and as Amyra walked into the energized room she felt at home and smelled the awaking scent of coffee.

Through the murmuring of voices and the tapping of keys on a computer. She followed her nose to the small coffee booth inside. Amyra's eyes watched as the workers behind the counter shuffled with orders. Amyra stood in line while simultaneously fishing out a five-dollar bill from her bag.

"Hey Amyra, want your usual black and bitter?" Ronnie asks.

Amyra rolls her eyes at the boy in front of her. Ronnie was well over twenty, but his boyish ways and unwanted flirting has put him on Amyra's bad side.