Both hands fumbled in her denim pockets in hopes they would find the familiar sharpness of keys.
"Goddamn it," she whispered.
The prospect of having to return back to the parking garage brought a sinking feeling to her stomach. Thank God for the elevator, but living on the eleventh floor was still a pain most days. Her hands dug into her jacket frantically as she rounded the corner to her apartment-number 1103.
The unexpected commotion ahead caused her to make an abrupt stop. Two men were arguing while they attempted to push a grey canvas couch through her neighbor's small door frame. It'd been months since Mrs. Williams moved out to live with her son in the suburbs, and she'd grown used to the quiet on the other side of her living room wall. A woman was anxiously watching from behind while her hands alternated between resting on her hips and crossing against her chest. She was some ten, twelve years older and her short blonde hair had been pulled back in a half-up knot. Her outfit of a loose t-shirt and leggings indicated this had been a long day dedicated to moving. When the men finally managed to tilt the sofa just enough to make it fit, she breathed a sigh of relief as they slipped through with ease. She looked over and met her neighbor's dark eyes, who finally retrieved keys from the breast pocket of her jacket.
"Hey! I'm Blake. I'm your new neighbor I guess."
The woman's focus quickly returned to her own apartment, and she escaped into its comforts away from sight-number 1104.
Blake sighed in confusion, but she didn't mind. Most people hadn't been friendly in the city since she moved there. She unlocked the white wooden door and didn't give the interaction another thought.
A few days later, the apartment glowed like paradise as the light of a morning sun entered through the glass door in the living room. Blake was an early riser, and she often enjoyed coffee and a cigarette on the balcony while basking in the radiance breaking free from the horizon. She rested both forearms over the railing and took deep drags as she stared off into the heart of the city.
The sound of a door sliding open came from behind, and she looked over to see her new neighbor stepping out on her balcony in an open bathrobe over pajama shorts and a tank top. She said nothing, thinking perhaps the woman preferred to be left alone. The bitter coffee was somewhat burnt this morning, but it did the job. She took a big gulp from her favorite red mug and sighed.
"Hey, do you think I could bum one of those?"
Blake's eyes returned to her neighbor's balcony and she stood up straight.
"Oh...sure. Hold on one second." She set down her coffee and handed the pack over the railing along with the blue lighter she had bought for a dollar at the gas station.
The neighbor retrieved one and placed it in her lips, then lit the cigarette as if she had done it many times before.
"Cowboy killers," she said as she returned Blake's things.
Blake gave a dry laugh. "Yeah..." She was unsure if the conversation should continue, but the thought was quickly dismissed as the neighbor spoke after a slight pause.
"I'm sorry for being rude the other day. You caught me at a bad time."
"It's all good," said Blake. "Moving day can be rough for even the strongest of minds."
The neighbor gave a genuine smile and Blake thought it to be quite fetching. The soft colors of a six am sunrise cast a warm hue across her pale skin and the slight crookedness of her mouth gave her an endearing presence from across balconies. She noticed attractive women every day, but her neighbor's enigmatic bearing gave her an air of mystique.
"I'm Sarah by the way," she said.
Blake offered her hand. "I'm Bla-"
"Blake," she interrupted. "I remember." She took her hand and gave a confident shake. "Have you lived here long?"
Blake shook her head. "Only a couple years. I got a job at the library downtown after I finished my masters. Did you just move to the city?"
"Yeah, I did," said Sarah. "Divorce...fresh start-you know how it is."
"Of course. I'm sorry to hear that though."
"Don't be. He was a dick."
Sarah's bluntness was refreshing and Blake felt she had to get to know her better. After stubbing out the cigarette butt, she tried to play it cool, though something about her new neighbor caused her to feel weak at the knees. Perhaps her being a fair bit older gave her an allure that was hard to resist.
"Do you need any help unpacking?"
Her inquiry caused Sarah's smile to return, and she eyed the broad shouldered soft masc for a moment before answering.
"No...but I have a bottle of wine I won't finish on my own. You can help me drink it if you're interested."
Inside, Blake was giddy. Whether straight or not, she was just happy to have the attention of a beautiful woman. Meeting people in this city had not been so easy, so if companionship with her neighbor was the closest she could get, at least she could make a new friend.
"Absolutely. Tonight?"
Sarah stuck the cigarette into the fresh dirt of a potted plant and brought her open bathrobe together. "Sure, if you don't mind the mess. Does seven work?"
"I don't mind at all. Seven's great."
"Okay then-I'll be sure to wear something a little more easy on the eyes." Sarah grinned and backed away towards the door. "And thank you for the smoke."
After she retreated into her apartment, Blake took a deep breath as she felt rather faint. Spending the evening in the company of a woman like Sarah was exactly what she needed.
At six fifty-five p.m, Blake stood in front of the mirror and groaned as she held two shirts up for consideration. One was a nice button down, and the other-a solid black tee. She didn't want Sarah to think she was under the impression it was anything more than a casual get together, but she also wished to look her best. After a sigh, she pulled the nicer shirt over her head and sprayed cologne across her chest.
Not wanting to be exactly on time, she waited until five after and knocked softly on Sarah's door. When she answered, she revealed an ensemble of a sheer emerald blouse and jeans.
"Would you like me to remove my shoes?" asked Blake. She pointed to the leather motorcycle boots adorned with a buckle on each side.
"No, it's all right," said Sarah. "Those are cool. Don't tell me you actually ride?"
Blake laughed and looked to her feet. "I do actually."
Sarah groaned and ushered her to a stool against the kitchen counter. "Don't you know what emergency rooms call those things?"
"I do. And I don't really care. I love it anyways. Did you happen to have an ex with one?"
"No," said Sarah as she stood across from her. "I've never been on one actually."
"Do you want to?" Blake put her elbows on the granite and smiled. "I could take you sometime."
The question caused Sarah to look away as her own smile formed. "Maybe. But I'd have to think about it. Could you do me a favor and open this for us?" She handed over the bottle of red and a corkscrew. As Blake worked, she admired how it seemed she had no trouble freeing the cork from the tight squeeze of the neck.