Member-only story
The Thing that Happened to My Snooping Neighbour
Rustling paper, tearing, ripping, followed by the flop of a heavy envelope landing on my desk made me realise that I wasn’t really alone in my little room.
I had just woken up. It was deepest winter and my whole body, including my head, was hidden under the Swedish quilt that was big enough to cover a horse.
I pulled back the quilt, just enough to see into the room. I saw a dark figure, a man, he stood with his back to me. He was shuffling a stack of my letters as he stood by the window. He scrutinizing the letters for clues.
As my eyes adjusted to the daylight, I saw that he was my neighbour who lived one floor above.
I wasn’t afraid. He was looking at my mail, and he used his fingers to open each letter, then snoop at the contents. I didn’t think he had weapon, he wasn’t that type.
When ever I’d talk to friends of mine, I’d refer to him as, “My Idiot Neighbour Klaus”.
I watched him, some letters interested him more than others. He stooped as he read the addresses, a shift of his neck and he was looking at the date in the top right corner. Next thing, the sound of the adhesive tearing away from the paper, a little gasp of breath…
