Just A Knock Away

04: JUST BREATHE

NEIL

It was just a song.

That's what I kept telling myself, at least. That it was just a song and that there couldn't have been a valid reason for her to pound on my door and verbally assault me. Billy Joel was a great artist I'll admit but I've listened to Just The Way You Are a million times and I've never reacted to it like that.

But then I replayed the moment. The tears in her eyes, the panic on her face, how it escalated and deflated into . . . pain. That's her song. That's what she'd said before she left, and that's what I kept hearing in my head every time that I thought back to what happened. Who's her? Her girlfriend? Her sister? Her mom? She'd been to a funeral recently. Did I trigger something?

No. I shook my head each time and busied myself with something in order to distract myself from doing it again. From convincing myself that she needed saving, and that I was supposed to save her. I did this too often, and each time I felt myself giving more than I was taking. It wasn't healthy, and I didn't deserve it. So whatever she was going through and whatever her outburst had meant, I told myself that it had nothing to do with me.

But then I saw her at the mailboxes, and everything that I'd retaught myself had flown out of the window. Our boxes were right next to each other, and as I walked up to her she seemed to be in a trance. "Hi." I exhaled, smiling politely at her as I put my key into the lock and twisted my box open. She glanced at me, and her face slackened.

"Hi." Curt, to-the-point and void of emotion. The curls that I had been so transfixed by were piled into a tight bun atop her head, and the bags beneath her eyes were heavy and dark.

"Um," I started as she quickly unlocked her box, grabbed her mail, and prepared to leave. I caught up with her, though, and walked beside her to the elevator, "So about yesterday—"

"—It was nothing—"

"—I didn't know that song meant that much to you, and I'm sorry if it triggered anything." She seemed so annoyed while I spoke, her eyes rolling back into her head and her lips tightening into a straight line. But either I couldn't take a hint or I simply liked the sound of our voices, because I didn't stop talking. "I know that you've been to a funeral recently—"

"Stop." Her eyes were as sharp as her tone, and when the elevator opened she slid in immediately and pushed the button to our floor. I'm pretty sure that if I hadn't jumped in after her that she would've left me. "You don't know anything about me or . . . you just don't know anything." She muttered angrily, her arms crossing her chest as she leaned on the wall of the opposite side of the elevator. She didn't look at me, just the arrow beside the increasing floor numbers. "Nothing happened between us. I'm sorry if I disturbed you," And I caught her eye then, dark, gloomy irises that flickered themselves away from mine in an instant. "But it's better if we just forget that even happened."

When the elevator opened, I just stood there. I watched her swiftly exit, listened to her footsteps round the corner and make their way towards her apartment. And then I was moving too, right behind her, and then across from her, facing my own door and not saying a word. "It was just a song." I heard myself state, knowing that she was right behind me, and hearing the click of her door unlocking but not the turn of her doorknob. And then I entered my apartment, and I shut my door.

♦

SALEM

It wasn't just a song.