Hello! It’s been a minute. The last month of school truly is the hardest. I love kids, but I’m fucking sick of kids. They’re so loud. Anyway, here’s the next part of the murder story. Enjoy!
I couldn’t sleep. All I could do was twirl the business card in my fingers. I thought about calling my mom, but by the time I had that thought it was 2:37 am. She would not appreciate being woken in the middle of the night for something so stupid. ‘Seriously’ I pondered, staring at Mr. Williams’s card, “How the fuck did I get mixed up with my missing neighbor’s dad?’ A neighbor who I’ve barely exchanged words with since I moved in here.
I remember the first time I saw her. Sariah. I moved in about a little over a year ago. I was unloading the U-Haul with my best friend Allison. We were struggling to get my couch onto the elevator when I happened to look up and see her.
“Whoa,” I breathed as I dropped my side of the couch. She was tall and lithe, like a runner. Her hair was pulled back from her face with a yellow headband. Her big, hazel eyes met my own almond-shaped, brown eyes behind cat-eye glasses. (Thankfully, I don’t have those glasses anymore. Embarrassing.)
“Dammit Michelle, what the fuck?” Allison hissed at me. “Carry your side!”
“I’m sorry…I just…saw someone.”
Allison cocked her head incredulously. “Seriously, flirting while we are in the middle of moving? Get a grip.”
“No, not flirting. She…didn’t notice me,” I replied, blushing a bit. I’m such a dork.
As we finally got the couch on my floor and pushed it into my new apartment, I couldn’t get her out of my mind. Such a sophisticated but sensible style. Such shiny black hair. Many, beautiful, goth tattoos on her neck, arms, and one of her feet. Unsmiling; she was with this guy who seemed to be the cause of her vexation. I hoped I would see her again when I went back to the van, but of course, she and the annoying guy were gone.
Today, I woke up on the couch around 10 am and immediately texted Allison, “yo some weird shit just happened to me. you hungry? let’s get ramen and discuss.” I didn’t expect to hear from her right away; she’s not alive until the afternoon. After pacing around trying and failing to find some sort of activity to keep my mind occupied, I called my mom.
“Hi Mommy, how are you?”
“I’d be better if you called more often. How are you?”
“Weird.”
“Girl, what does that mean?”
I hesitated, then started, “Well…” and explained the events of the last week or so. The more I spoke, the crazier I felt.
Without missing a beat, Mom said, “Michelle, don’t get mixed up in this. Throw away that man’s card, and if he comes looking for you, tell him to leave and not to contact you again.” Her voice was firm and concerned. This really has nothing to do with me, I thought.
“You’re right,” I replied, picking up Mr. Williams’s business card. “I really liked Sariah, but I don’t know anything about her or her dad.” I ripped the card into tiny pieces. “I’ve got my own problems, anyway.”
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