Anonymous

Audio and visual inspiration came from watching the music video of the song "Something to Someone" by Dermot Kennedy. Some of the visuals were heavily influenced and if you're curious for reference here you go.

If you're not curious, well, hope you just enjoy the story either way! Thanks for reading :)

==========================================================================

I sat on my balcony, the sun barely rising, my favorite blanket wrapped around me. My eyes stung, my cheeks raw from how much I was crying. It was just one of those really necessary ugly cries, the ones that make your throat hurt and face sore. But it always feels so cathartic.

And as my eyes dried up, the sun cresting the horizon, I felt like it was symbolically showing me the new dawn to my day too. Cliché as it is it made me smile, even just a bit.

I took a deep breath and walked inside, looking around at the place. I was expecting it to look different, expecting to see the stray sweatshirt or stash of snacks. It was odd, that unfamiliar sense, like my space wasn't fully mine. A deep breath followed by a weary sigh filled the still space. I shook my head, heading to my room to crawl into my bed.

It had only been two weeks but I still felt rocked by the reality of my newfound singledom. After two years and moving in with someone I thought I loved my feet felt unsteady as I tried to find my setting again. Sleep was a warm welcome, the exhaustion hitting me again.

When I woke up it was already afternoon, the sun high in the sky. My hair was ratty, my body feeling grimy after the late night. A hot shower was in order. And as the steam and scalding water embraced me I was slowly feeling that sense of relief I had this morning. Once the water started to run cold I stepped out, drying off and sliding into my cotton pajamas.

I walked back out to the balcony to grab my plate I left from last night, hesitating when I saw a peculiar little piece of paper. It was folded up and clipped to a string that led to the balcony next to mine. I hesitated, a bit confused, before snatching it. I opened it up and saw in pencil a simple question:

What made you cry like that?

My heart sunk to the pit of my stomach as I glanced to my right. Our balconies had those privacy walls I couldn't very well see the tenant next to me. But it was evident they had heard me. Embarrassment and frustration swirled around. The audacity to ask that kind of question to a stranger was astonishing.

I hurried inside, grabbing a pencil and writing an easy reply:

Sorry for the nose.

I folded it back up and tossed it around the wall, shaking my head as I cleaned up and got ready to try and enjoy my weekend as best I could.

Each passing day felt easier than the last, and within two months I felt almost like my normal self. So much so that when my co-workers invited me out for drinks Friday after work I didn't feel like turning it down anymore. We went out to a bar not too far from my apartment, sitting down to get drinks.

It was nice, there were laughs, and I found myself really smiling. That was until I saw him walk in with another woman on his arm. Everything came crashing down on me. When I got home I changed into my comfy sweats, grabbed my blanket, made hot chocolate and curled up on my balcony to stare up at the sky.

"Fucking dammit," I grumbled, sniffing as the images of him with her flooded my mind. He looked so happy. He used to smile and laugh with me like that. He used to hold my arm or squeeze my waist. And now she was there.

I buried my face into my sleeve, gripping it as I trembled with my sobs.

"I thought you were better," a voice shocked me and I jumped, sniffling as I furiously wiped my face and looked around. I hesitated, pursing my lips.

"H-hello?" I called out when there was no other noise.

"Hey," the same raspy voice called out and I realized it came from the balcony with the weird letter. "I heard you crying a lot sometime back. Had me worried. But after my letter it stopped. I felt bad, like maybe I made you upset with the gesture. I just wasn't sure why someone would cry that much," he explained gently, my heart racing. I sniffled, wiping my face in my sleeve some more as I shifted in my chair.

I had nothing to say to the stranger next door who heard me at my most vulnerable. This was just awkward.

"Sorry, I'll try not to-"

"Sorry for what? You're allowed to cry," he sounded amused. I stared at the edge of the wall by the banister, half expecting him to poke his head around. "I usually hang out on my porch at night, it's calming. At least before you developed the habit of crying on yours," he laughed lightly and I scoffed.

"Yeah well, this is the last time that happens," I grumbled, shaking my head as my hand pushed into my hair, holding it back as I glared at the concrete below my chair.

"So what is it?" he asked gently.

"What's it matter?" I countered. Silence.

"I suppose it doesn't. But there are only a few reasons I could guess why someone cries that much," he offered. I rolled my eyes, lying my head on my knee as I curled up into myself more. My blanket was swallowing me whole, a warm comfort on the chilly night.

"People can cry for whatever damn reason," I countered.

"That's true too," he agreed easily. Why did he feel the need to keep talking to me? A part of me wanted to go back inside, but another part of me wanted to indignantly sit on my porch. It was my space. "But what was it?" he asked gently and I sighed. It was hard to not be annoyed. But there was a weird nagging sensation that told me to talk about it.

"I uh, got dumped me recently. I was fine, really it's been a little over two months, but I saw him today with another girl already," I hesitated, frowning. "I didn't think he'd move on that quickly while I was still recovering," I mumbled, more so to myself.

"That sounds tough," he mused and I sighed, nodding. "First serious break up?" the question threw me through a loop.

"Um, no? But first one to hit me this hard. Probably because I was the one dumped this time," I laughed, sniffling as I wiped my eyes again. They felt raw and itchy now. I hated crying.

"What usually helps you?"

I bit my lip, smirking slightly as I laughed at myself.

"Wallowing in self-pity until I'm over that. Then hanging out with other people. Maybe having pointless sex?" I breathed easily, fiddling with the blanket as I glanced up at the sky. The breeze was nice, chilled, but felt refreshing.

"Sounds normal to me," he offered making me smile a bit. "So what phase are you in now?" he chuckled and I sighed.

"Well I went to the bar with some co-workers, so the hanging out with others part I guess?" I shrugged, nibbling on my lip.

"Is that where you saw him?"

"Yeah," I nodded, taking a deep breath and adjusting in the chair. I crossed my legs, pulling the blanket around me a bit tighter. "It wasn't something I was expecting. I thought I'd never see him again," I admitted, closing my eyes as I rested my head back. After a long silence I figured he was done with the conversation.

"I'm surprised we never crossed paths yet," he started suddenly, shocking me.

"That doesn't surprise me. I've never really ran into neighbors often," I brushed the notion off easily. Another silence lingered between us and I was pretty content in it. There was a weird sensation though, like a weight being lifted. I heard the sound of a sliding door and sighed, a bit relieved that the conversation was over.

And for about a week I didn't really go onto my balcony at night, not intentionally but it usually was only my habit when I needed to decompress. One morning when I went out to eat my breakfast though I noticed another note clipped to the little string.

Just throw this back over if you want or need company.

I pursed my lips, glancing at the privacy wall. It was interesting. I had read stories or seen videos online of neighbors being great friends. I never had that. Not that it didn't make sense, you shared a space with those people. But it seemed a bit farfetched that you'd become friends with people just because you lived next to each other. I didn't even know the face of the people in the left or right units.

Something about this offer intrigued me though. I hesitated and then got a pencil, writing back.

Tonight, I'll eat dinner on the balcony. Join me if you want.

It felt funny, but I was also a bit excited about it too. A funny little knot formed in my stomach as I chucked the note back over to his side of the wall. To take my mind off it I went back inside to clean a bit, wondering if I should have put a rough time on when I planned on eating dinner.

But I shook that worry away. I'm sure he'd go out whenever he was eating. And if we caught each other, we caught each other. If not, no biggie.

I found myself lying on my clean sheets scrolling through my phone to watch videos when my stomach started grumbling. "Guess I should figure dinner out," I huffed, sitting up as I rubbed the back of my neck. My feet scuffed the linoleum as I opened my fridge. I saw a salad mix bag and grabbed it, not feeling like cooking anything.

I grabbed a big bowl and mixed the salad together, remembering some left over chicken I had. I cut those up, tossing them in chilled. Simple. I grabbed a tea from my fridge and walked out to the porch. Before I even slid my door shut I heard a chair scuff next to me.

"Is that you 213?" he called out and I smirked.

"Yeah, 215?" I called back and he chuckled.

"Yeah," I settled into my seat, tossing my salad a bit more with my fork. "What's for dinner?" I asked casually opening my bottle.

"A microwavable meal. It sounds bad but it's actually pretty good. Some Asian thing?" he offered easily. I nodded, wondering if he didn't know how to cook or didn't want to.

"I just made a salad. I usually buy the um, the mixes with the little packs in them, so that if I'm not feeling like cooking I can just make one," I shrugged, stabbing into it to get a substantial bite. The crunching of the lettuce was the only sound I heard for a bit.

"I used to cook a lot, but I enjoy the ease of this kind of thing now. I probably should cook more," he mumbled. It seemed like there was something more to be uncovered but I wasn't sure if it was my place to pry.

"My ex and I used to cook together. Mainly because I knew how but felt lazy and he didn't like spending money on going out. At least, not with me," I thought back to him going on a date to the bar and grimaced.

"Sounds like an ass," he offered, making me laugh around my bite of food. I took a sip of tea admiring the clouds as the sky turned pink.

"Is it just you over there, 215?" I asked suddenly. A weird silence festered and I thought he went inside when I heard a throat clear.

"Uh yeah, just me," he confirmed, the tone in his voice weird.

"How long have you lived here?" I took another bite, waiting for him to fill the silence again.

"I'm coming up on the end of my second year. Going to renew my lease," he offered, a weird thrill filling me. I was renewing my lease too. This place was nice and affordable and that was hard to come by these days.

"I'm on my first year lease, renewing this fall as well," I mumbled.

"At least I'll know one person here. Two years and I've met no one," he chuckled. I smiled nodding.

"Yeah, crazy right? So where'd you live before this?" I asked, not thinking much of the question.

"In my house with my ex-wife," he laughed, the sound a bit somber. That put a lump in my throat. "We were married for nearly seven years," he continued, my mind reeling. It hit me then, that weird rush of sonder.

"How old were you when you got married?" I asked quietly. I was about to repeat myself, thinking he didn't hear me, but I heard some shuffling on his side of the wall.

"Twenty-five. We had been dating for two years before that. Met in college and were friends for some time too. It seemed perfect, you know?" his voice was closer to the wall and then I saw a plume of smoke. So he was a smoker.

"Yeah I think I get that, I mean the perfect relationship part. I've never been married," I offered. My mind did the mental math and I pursed my lips. "So you're thirty-four?" I asked.

"Going to be thirty-five in November," he agreed and I felt a funny tingle in my body. "How about you?" he asked and I nibbled on my lip.

"I'm twenty-seven," I admitted. There was a stillness and another plume of smoke blowing in the breeze from his balcony. I wafted the scent, surprised it had a sweetness to it. "Is that a cigarette or-"

"Cigar," he corrected and I nodded slowly. "Nasty habit, the ex hated it," he snorted a quick laugh, making me smirk. "Kind of makes me want to keep going, even if I've thought about quitting," he mused.

"Your own taste of revenge?" I mused, gently stabbing at my salad some more. I saw some birds flying by, glancing at the wall.

"Something like that."

"My ex hated that I ate out here," I mumbled then, staring out at the clouds as the sun casted a yellow hue across them. "Said it was gross that bugs, the wind, anything could touch my food," I snorted at the ridiculous arguments he'd make.

"What a clean freak," he chuckled along, and I felt like he was shaking his head with a smile himself.

"So now that he's gone I eat breakfast out here almost every morning, and dinner sometimes too," I nodded, proud of myself.

"Well it's a better view than an apartment wall all alone," he agreed simply. "I like to come out here a lot. Not just to smoke, although that's part of it," he explained. "There's something so nice about it," he continued.

Another comfortable silence lingered, filled only with ambient noise as I continued picking at my salad. I saw the occasional smoke plume from his side, indicating his presence. And that sweet smell was starting to comfort me as well.

"What do you do for work?" he asked then and I smiled.

"I'm a manager at a salon," I shrugged, it didn't seem that impressive to me.

"What kind of salon? The hair kind?" he continued and I giggled.

"Yes the hair kind," I teased, making him chuckle. "I've been doing hair and nails since I was nineteen. My clients all say I have a natural talent for it," I shrugged, tossing the remaining salad around before sipping my drink. "What about you?" I asked.

"I'm a tattoo artist. Work in a parlor downtown by the harbor," he breathed. I was amazed.

"Do you have a lot of tattoos?" I wondered, more so to myself, but it seemed to make him laugh.

"Not as many as you'd probably expect. But I do have quite a few I suppose?" he sounded amused. It was like I could hear his smile. "What about you? Any ink or piercings?" he challenged and I blushed.

"Um, I got a tattoo on my ass as a dare in college. And um," I hesitated, biting my lip. "I do have a few piercings? Got them in college too," I offered, not wanting to give away what kind.

"A wild streak in college huh?" he challenged playfully, making me laugh lightly as I nibbled on my lip. I fiddled with my fork, glancing at the wall. I was curious to get a glimpse of this mystery man in 215. "Well spill, I'm curious now, where are these piercings?" he pressed.

"I have my nose pierced, my ears, my belly button," I shrugged and hesitated. "And um, I did get my right nipple pierced too," I admitted, blushing as I covered my eyes. "My girlfriends all went!" I felt so embarrassed. A soft whistle of amazement sounded from the wall.

"What school did you go to?" he teased, my face heating up more.

"Oh just the local community college. After I got my license I worked for two years to afford an associates in management. Just to help me out," I took another bite, nearing the end of my salad but wanting to make this conversation last. It was a nice reprieve.

"And these friends, do you still hang out with them?" he asked.

"Oh I work with them!" I snorted, shaking my head. "We went to school together, and some of them are still in school. A lot of them are working to pay off school until they get where they want to be. Like um, Katie? She's one of my closest friends, we work together, and she is studying to be a nurse," it wasn't like me to be so open, but something about the anonymity of this was breaking a lot of my barriers down.

"And was Katie part of the nipple piercing adventure?" he still sounded so amused.

"Yeah, she actually got her left one pierced the same day," I ignored the embarrassment, understanding he'd probably seen crazier stuff at the tattoo place. "We bought matching rings recently too," I admitted sheepishly.

"Yeah? And what kind of nose piercing do you have?" was he trying to build a mental image of me?

"A septum," I offered fiddling with it subconsciously.

"Interesting, not a lot of people feel confident enough to get that done," he mused, making me a bit more self-conscious than I already was. I shrugged, finishing up the last of my salad. I reclined back, kicking my feet up and fiddling with my bottle.

"Thanks for having dinner with me, it was nice... The company?" I offered after a while.

"Same. I'm about ready to call it in for the night. Go for a walk, shower," he rattled off his evening tasks mindlessly, as I just nodded absently.

"I'll probably watch some videos before passing out," I muttered. I glanced at the wall, waiting for some indicator of something. But then I heard his sliding doors. Not one to say goodbye I guess? Didn't bother me though. I relaxed back into the chair, closing my eyes as I sipped my tea.

The next few weeks went on like this. We'd randomly "schedule" dinner together a few times a week, just chatting from our own private balconies. We'd comment on the weather, on things going on, maybe bring out a story or two to share? It all felt very relaxed, easy. It was almost comical how well we could chat or just sit idly in silence together.

I'd come to learn he smoked only two flavors of cigars, one that smelled like cinnamon and one that smelled like chocolate and coffee. He had a habit smoking after eating too. He also started cooking again, which I found interesting. That and he chose to walk every day to wind down at the end of the day.

Then of course I also learned of the fun little stories and nuances of his life. Through his stories I figured out he had a father he was really close to, a distant mother, a sister he cared about deeply, and two really great friends who were in his groom's men party for his wedding.

In fact I felt so close to him that when I thought about it, I felt like the only things I didn't know about him were more superficial. Like the way he looked, how tall he was, those things. And I don't think I cared to know.

I was thinking about my invite for dinner as I walked up the stairs to my floor after work, pretty eager to grab my leftovers and head out to the porch when I saw a container on the floor in front of my door. I looked around, confused as I slowly approached it.

It was clearly food. I saw a note taped on top, biting my lip. I opened it recognizing his handwriting immediately. I glanced at his door a bit away and smiled, scooping it up and working into my apartment. I tossed my keys on the counter, kicking my shoes off, and went straight for the balcony.

When I stepped out, setting the container down on the table I saw a little box attached to a string. My stomach flipped, a weird anxiety filling me. Was this a gift? I bit my lip, glancing at the food and the box. This felt oddly like a date.

Did that scare me?

I ignored my worries, going back inside to get a drink and some silverware to eat. When I returned I saw a plume of smoke flitter from his balcony. The scent filled my side and I smiled.

"Is that coffee flavored?" I asked, seeing another plume.

"Yeah, it tastes like a mocha kind of?" he breathed simply. I glanced at the box again, unsure if he heard me come out here. "Did you get the box?" he asked, as if reading my mind.