A Warm Welcome

Our next-door days are numbered. I will be moving house soon and then my neighbour will be my neighbour no more.

I’ve actually been dreading to tell him, worried that telling him will make him more adamant than ever to have me over for dinner. But as the day approaches there’s no beating around the bush anymore; there are people coming to see my apartment, and I break the news gently.

“I see, I see…” he says, pensively stroking his bare belly and taking a swig of his beer. “You know, I can’t blame you. She was in here again, you know, that thieving landlady of ours. Stole several of my things. Won’t be long before I leave either, I’m not stupid. No, I ain’t.”

He lets out a sigh.

“Anyway, I thought you should know,” I say. “Some people are gonna come over to see the place tonight.”

“Well, good for you man. Just make sure you give me your new address.”

He goes back into his apartment, and I figure I got off easy enough. I’ll weasel my way out of giving him my new address one way or another. I’ll find a new tenant and bring an end to our era.

My doorbell rings 8 o’clock sharp, and I’m all ready to let the first visitor in. I check our hallway and close my neighbour’s bathroom door. It’s just not the best first impression to give off when you’re trying to convince someone to move in.

She turns out to be a pretty young black girl who’s brought her little brother along. We’re halfway through introductions when my neighbour swings his door wide open and sticks his half-clad self out of the doorframe. He eyes the girl up and down and whistles in appreciation. Wonderful.

I quickly coax them into my abode and close the door. “Never mind him,” I say. “This is where the place starts.” I show them around the flat that I spent hours cleaning until it sparkled. I’m willing to bet that they’ve forgotten all about that little run-in with my neighbour after they’ve seen what a nice apartment it is.

There is however another apartment available just upstairs, and as I lead them out of my quarters, I notice that the bathroom door is open again. As we pass, my hope is flushed. There sits my neighbour, still shirtless, his pants around his ankles, yelling “Helloooooo!” and waving with the one hand that isn’t holding the toilet paper.

I’m moving house, but it won’t be today. This changes nothing though. One way or another, our tale is coming to an end.