the manor

     

     She lives in an apartment building with a fancy name: Hepburn Manor. Katherine not Audrey. Although, depending on her mood, she does change which leading lady must be haunting the halls.  Number three-oh-five is on the west side and three flights up.  Thirty-two units, both one bedroom and studio, mean no fewer than thirty-two people reside there and yet she catches barely a glimpse of one or two a week. Usually it's of the same two guys who obviously don't have nine to fives as is the case for her. One of them has hipster facial hair and always does laundry on the same day she tries to. This clearly means they own the same amount of underwear.  The other has a punk attitude with strangely shaven and yet longish hair, no color in his wardrobe, and a certain pained look at having to nod or say hello. She sees very few, but she hears the sounds of their day to day lives. Footsteps one floor up, a door closing after a jangle of keys, late night laughter through the wall. She can smell their soup and burnt popcorn. She hears when they practice guitar or have loud parties. She know's how often the people overhead have sex. But for all that, she feels as though she could be living in a building of silent film ghosts.