I hope it brings laughter.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A
few weeks post-breakup, I really missed Noah. Luckily, the lightbulb in my main
room died. Perfect. I readily purchased a new one at the 7-11 directly behind
Parkside Manor. To play it casual, I threw on a sweatsuit and slippers, then knocked
on his door.
“Hi Noah,
my lightbulb went out. Can I bother you to fix it for me? I can’t reach.” He
agreed and walked a few steps into my apartment.
At 5’8,” Noah couldn’t reach either. So I positioned my small step-ladder
directly underneath the dead bulb and handed him the new one. Noah climbed to
the third step. Nervous, I asked if he wanted a cup of water or something to
drink. He said “No, I’ll just change this for you now that I’m up here.”
I
needed to do something besides watch his handiwork, so I poured myself a cup of
water in the kitchen, sipped, and left it on the counter. As I re-entered the
main room, my slippers slipped. I fell on my butt and skid across the sleek
hard-wood floor, crashing into the ladder. Noah jolted and jumped off to safety.
Fortunately, he’d replaced the dead bulb before the collision.
“Oh
sorry,” I said with composure, sharp pangs surging through my rear and upper
thighs. I stood up. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah
I’m fine. You scared the hell out of me, that’s all.”
“Oh
sorry,” I reiterated. “Well um thanks for changing my lightbulb.” I stared at
the floor, couldn’t look at him.
“Okay.
I guess I’ll see you later.” Noah swiftly departed.
I
begrudgingly walked into the kitchen, pulled open the freezer door and grabbed
my ice-pack. A cold numbing sensation soon displaced the pain, but not the shame.
