Chapter 2: Next Door
"Oh my fucking God!"
The words of surprised exclamation wafted into her room through the window. The source of those words most likely a lip-glossed mouth attached to the body of a college girl who hides her emptiness in parties, friends and a dependence upon her looks.
Kind of an odd phrase if one thinks about it literally. Em had always been amused by the use of certain cusswords, especially when you think in terms of the literal. Like the time she heard a teenager reference a "fucking fork". What?
As she listened to the bits and pieces of conversations floating into her window, she couldn't help but wonder about the people she barely knew, though they inhabited a house no more than 15 feet away from hers. What are their dreams, desires, passions?
She had met them all at various times since moving in six months ago, but didn't know too much. One of the guys was in grad school. Maybe both? And the girl...perhaps she was too. Em couldn't recall.
Were they doing what they wanted to do with their lives? Or did they feel empty at night during that time when one is wavering between consciousness and sleep; when thoughts well up from the depth of your soul unbidden, but relentless.
A loud laugh brough Em's thoughts back to her room and she realized her eyelids were beginning to droop.
She willed her feet to fling themselves to the floor, got up to turn off the light, and went to bed. The Bible on her nightstand left as it was placed, despite her intentions of reading it that night.
As she drifted off to sleep, she imagined herself alternately embracing a human lover in the form of a body pillow, and being embraced by the Lover of her soul. Perhaps if she imagined hard enough, it would become true.
The words of surprised exclamation wafted into her room through the window. The source of those words most likely a lip-glossed mouth attached to the body of a college girl who hides her emptiness in parties, friends and a dependence upon her looks.
Kind of an odd phrase if one thinks about it literally. Em had always been amused by the use of certain cusswords, especially when you think in terms of the literal. Like the time she heard a teenager reference a "fucking fork". What?
As she listened to the bits and pieces of conversations floating into her window, she couldn't help but wonder about the people she barely knew, though they inhabited a house no more than 15 feet away from hers. What are their dreams, desires, passions?
She had met them all at various times since moving in six months ago, but didn't know too much. One of the guys was in grad school. Maybe both? And the girl...perhaps she was too. Em couldn't recall.
Were they doing what they wanted to do with their lives? Or did they feel empty at night during that time when one is wavering between consciousness and sleep; when thoughts well up from the depth of your soul unbidden, but relentless.
A loud laugh brough Em's thoughts back to her room and she realized her eyelids were beginning to droop.
She willed her feet to fling themselves to the floor, got up to turn off the light, and went to bed. The Bible on her nightstand left as it was placed, despite her intentions of reading it that night.
As she drifted off to sleep, she imagined herself alternately embracing a human lover in the form of a body pillow, and being embraced by the Lover of her soul. Perhaps if she imagined hard enough, it would become true.
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