*Porcelain Face. (PG-13, not actually R)

The Neighbor

 Chapter 5           

Magrita who lived in 2C liked to talk.  She liked to talk and talk and talk a lot, and talk with people who loved to talk.   So when they had their building-dinners in 2B, Amelie’s apartment, and the three who always refused didn’t come, as usual,  it was always a fun activity of the talkative participants to debate the reasons why some of their housemates didn’t join in.

This time was no exception.                                        

“Ay, you know, you know, I know why Mister Michael from 5E didn’t come. "

"He’s probably home counting his pins.  So meticulous.”  

Someone tittered, probably the nervous Mrs. Dandren from 3C.  Her thin, gloomy son sat in the corner reading a book half his size.  “What are you reading, dearie?” asked motherly, bustling Margarot Elliot.  He looked up and mumbled, “Crime and Punishment”.  She exclaimed over it, and a few adults came over to talk about it.  The boy shifted, obviously uncomfortable.  He looked to his mother desperately.  Mrs. Dandren was tittering as she talked to Mr. Brent from 4D.  Magrita bent her frame conspiratorily again.

“That Mister Michael, always home with his dolls.   You know what they say about dollmakers.”                                                                      

“Ooh, what?” said the curious Lydia.

“Enough, Ms. Gonzalez.  Don’t bother the poor man,” said the solid David Abbers, the banker. 

She persisted.  “He’s probably got some kind of… problem.  Look at the way he cleans!”

“What’s wrong with cleanliness?”

“I once visited his apartment.  Sparkling.”

“Nothing wrong with that.”

“But he never comes to any gathering!”

“He’s much too neat.  And so odd!” muttered Magrita.

“Yes, I think so too!”

“Don’t you? Always refusing to come down, that nervous man.  Probably has something against us.”

“Now don’t be like that.  You know the man’s so nervous.  Bit of a wreck.”

The general population agreed.

“And Mr. Le’Blanc and his wife, always thinking they’re so well off.  Refusing to associate with us!” Margarot Elliot huffed, turning away from Mrs. Dandren’s (quite relieved) young son. 

“Wonder what they’re up to, always busy.”

“Problably one of those couples, I bet,” sniffed Margarot Elliot.  “Improper!”

“And that disagreeable old woman from 4E, always talking to herself.”

“Quite mad, that lady.   Always talking nonsense.  She keeps muttering all kinds of stories.”

“Did you hear?” said Magrita eagerly.  “That lady told me the best thing the other day.  Said she heard thumping from upstairs.”

“That’s Mister Michael, the dollmaker’s room, right?”

“Said she heard thumping!  Like cutting something very heavy!”

 “Have you seen the man?  Nervous little guy.  Couldn’t hurt a fly, that man.”

“Yes, not the type…”

“She saw blood on the walls!”

“Mad as a hatter, that old woman.”

“Insane, poor woman.”

“I heard it was her son, after he died.”

“Oh, what a sad story!”

“The poor woman!”

Amelie collected the plates and they continued to chat through the night, gossiping.

Standing nervously outside apartment 2B, Michael Velvetine turned and walked timidly away, unheard and unseen.