-hey, girl, are you there?-
I tapped on the front door.
-it's nearly time to go, are you ready yet?-
There was no sound, so I let myself in.
The lights were all off and the place was a mess, as usual with her.
She wasn't in the living room, perhaps she was still dressing.
I sat down on the couch, it smelled of cigarette smoke, not mine, not hers, just the lazy smoke that lingers for years and never quite leaves. It was comforting in a way.
I flipped through A Summer's Solace while Paul Simon sang "Homeward Bound" on the muffled transistor radio.
-what is taking her so long?-
I got up from the couch and walked into the kitchen. Just week old dishes, last month's papers, and a dying ceiling fan that stirred the air.
She wasn't in the bathroom, just some faded seashells, dirty towels, and potpourri that no longer smelled.
I climbed the stairs.
I knocked softly on the bedroom door.
-are you ready?-
There was no response.
I opened the door and looked inside.
There she was, curled up on the unmade bed. Her face was a gentle half-smile, dreaming of far off places and better days.
She was only half-dressed. I smiled, it was just like her.
I watched her for a moment, the way she hugged the blankets, all bunched up, and the way her face betrayed something darkly cute within.
-girl… you've got it good…-
I smiled to myself and quietly closed the door.