Aislinn the Odd

         The April downpour drops furiously on the window of the small, brick townhouse as she shoves her nicest shoes onto her feet in a hurry. Margaret Turmel, quite a respectable business woman, did not have time to spare on her way to the office. Her hand releases the door, almost slamming it in the rush, then she proceeds to walk toward the car with her slick black umbrella suspended above her head. As she struggles to close the umbrella, her eye catches sight of a moving truck in the driveway next door, the home connected to hers. She is baffled to have not seen it before due to the obnoxious sounds emerging from the engine of the vehicle. Now that she has seen it, the sound is hard to ignore. Since she is about to leave, she decides not to make a scene out of the noises being a disruption of her day. Margaret turns on the windshield wipers of her car and drives through the damp streets.

         A small splash of water appears as Margaret's car plows through the puddle then back into her driveway where she had begun her day. Although she is home, her day is far from over considering the copious amount of work she must complete on her own time. She is putting her key into her door when she notices the rumbles and thuds of various tools working on the walls inside her new neighbor's home. She sighs as she shoves the key back in her pocket and makes her way through the wet grass to the door of the noisy home. Her fist collides rather forcefully with the door as she knocks, making the people inside aware of her discontent with the current situation.

         It is silent, the machines are shut off and the only sounds filling the air are the raindrops and the sound of feet shuffling across the wood floor to answer the door. When it creeks open gently, Margaret is surprised to see a small, old woman standing before her with a heavenly grin.

         "Oh my, how are you doing the evening? I'm Aislinn. Would you need some assistance with something?" Her voice is smooth, unlike the shrill raspy voice one would expect from someone of her age.

         The kindness of the little old lady calms Margaret's nerves, she reminds her of her grandmother whom she was close to growing up. "It's alright ma'am, I was just wondering if you could quiet the tools in there down. I have work I need to finish tonight."

         "Oh, my bad. Why don't you come inside for hot chocolate?"

         She takes a step back from the now wide open front door. "Oh, I'm too busy tonight with work. I'm sorry."

         She grimaces at the thought. "Work? Don't you want a break every once in a while? You seem awfully stressed."

         Margaret's eyes narrow at the assumption. "Stressed? Not one bit. Why don't you mind your own business?"

         She turns her back to Aislinn and makes her way back down the steps to return to her own apartment. When she reaches the door she turns to face the woman one last time. She is still on her own steps, not facing Margaret but instead straight forward with a smile. Finally, after a few seconds of frozen stares, Aislinn turns to face her with the same wrinkled smile. Margaret shudders from the cold then opens her door to go inside. She slumps down in her office chair in front of her laptop to resume her work. The thunder continues to roar outside, causing Margaret to cover her ears and lose concentration. Since she was young Margaret has had an unexplainable anxiety toward loud sounds. Her whole family was always perplexed by it, except for her grandmother on her mom's side. Since they both had the same fear, they created a tradition in which the two of them would watch a movie in the basement each night that a thunderstorm would happen. Now that her grandmother has passed, Margaret suffers the noise in solitude.

         The sun peeks out from behind the grey, early morning clouds as Margaret gets prepared for work once again. She walks out the door, eyes surrounded by dark circles due to her lack of sleep the night before. Thunderstorms have been the culprit of many sleepless nights for Margaret. A sigh of relief leaves her lips as she feels the sunlight in her eyes and on her pale skin. When she locks her front door, she notices a note taped to it along with a gift card to her favorite local coffee shop. The note reads "Sorry for the inconvenience, I hope this makes it up to you." The calm moment is disrupted by the old neighbor standing at the end of the driveway next to Margaret's little red car.