Thin Skin

Otis sat staring at his bare thighs. His eyes scanned every inch. Bulging blue veins decorated the hairy pale ham hocks. Otis sighed with relief as he wrapped a few squares of toilet paper around his fingers. This was the last roll, he checked the coat closet earlier. After he wiped, he sat for a few minutes browsing Instacart.

He was running low on bread too, and orange juice. He added a couple bottles of SPF 100 sunscreen to reach the free shipping. He could never be too safe in the summertime. He added mayo. Otis's ears twitched at the sound of a door creak. Then there was some muttering.

Otis put his ear to the wall: new neighbors. Hopefully they wouldn't be too loud. The walls were thin here. He could make out a few words: pizza, beer, condoms. Otis's pale face turned red, and his expressionless mouth curled into an uncomfortable grin as he pulled away from the wall and flushed the toilet.

"Beer," Otis echoed as he updated his Instacart.

The muttering stopped. Otis walked over to the sink to wash his hands. He stared at his reflection, the grin had already dissipated to his neutral near-frown.

"Beer?" he heard back through the wall.

Otis stopped the sink to look over. Were they talking to him?

"You want beer?" Otis reached for the doorknob behind him, holding his breath. He turned it slightly and tried to push. It rattled back 'No, not enough.' Did they hear that? He turned it a little more. Still, it wasn't enough.

"Are you okay over there?" asked the other voice. Otis had to get out of there now. He twisted the doorknob all the way and pushed. Just then the talking wall exploded, fragments flew toward Otis as he fell backwards through the door.

On the other side of the bathroom hovered a fist. Otis laid on his back, frozen as the fist retreated in the freshly punctured wall. Then an eye emerged, youthful, attached to a smile.

"Man, pull up your pants. Also..." the eye disappeared and a can fell through the hole. "Beer? We're new here, just moved in. I'm Keller, this is Basil."

"Hey," said the other voice. A new eye appeared in the hole.

"H- Hello," replied Otis as he shimmied his shorts back on.

"We heard you say 'beer.'"

"I heard you say 'beer.' Someone's going to have to fix this hole," Otis stood up and walked toward the beer.

"Sorry about that," shouted Keller. "We'll talk to the building manager on Monday." Basil's eye winked and disappeared. Then another hand emerged, feeling along the wall until it came to the toilet paper roll. It sucked it through the hole like a frog catching a fly.

"For the beer," snickered Basil. The hole went dark. The voices were gone.

Otis stared at the void, bewildered, violated. In one hand he hit 'Place Order' on his phone and picked up the beer with his other. After covering the hole with Scotch tape, he took the beer to bed and watched some old 50s film.

A week later, the hole in the bathroom had grown to person size. Basil, Thatcher, and Reggie had used up his twelve new rolls of toilet paper in a matter of days. Keller was hosting toilet races at 3 AM every night, taking advantage of the conjoined bathrooms.

Otis was calling the building manager several times a day about the holes, to no reply. He resorted to chaining his bathroom door shut when he wasn't using it, his bedroom door as well. The hole in the living room was bigger.

It was quiet now, 8 to 11 AM usually was. Lori and Grace were arguing about something in his kitchen all night, so he didn't get any water. His mouth was dry. Otis pushed through the 'peace-offering' beers that littered his bed and stepped into his slippers.

It took a few minutes to unwind the chain holding his door closed, especially since he was trying to be quiet. Otis hoped one day the courtesy would be reciprocated. He tied his robe as he slipped out the door.

The hallway wasn't as dark as he was used too. It was actually kind of bright. Otis adjusted his eyes and he made his way to the living room. The end of the hallway was partially blocked by a sofa that was slowly migrating from the other apartment.

As Otis squeezed by he studied the sleeping faces on the sofa: Lori, Aiden, Reggie, and a new face. Her lips were full and neon blue. He'd never seen that before. Her sleek black hair was like the blackout curtains he'd installed at every window and door.

Otis stared at the thirteen-foot gap where his living room wall used to be and considered how many curtains he would need to hide it. Otis noticed Gab and Thatcher slumped in armchairs in the dueling apartment, Gab in a bikini and Thatcher cuddled a bag of Doritos: Otis's Doritos.

"You like him?" a soft voice came from the sofa. It was the new girl.

"Sorry, what?" Otis replied.

"That's Thatcher. You're looking at him," her smile was as thin as her sleepy gaze.

"No, I'm looking at my Doritos. He stole them again."

"Oh," she laughed. "I see, that's Thatcher alright. I'm Veronique," she extended her hand in greeting.

"Sorry, I'm not a big toucher," Otis shook his head.

"Oh?" Veronique turned her head to the side. "I'm from a few doors down. Or I was a few doors down. Not a lot of walls left on this floor."

"I thought it was just me," Otis frowned. "Is your stuff okay?"

"My stuff?"

"Yeah, your belongings," Otis pointed to the Doritos.

"Oh, my stuff is everywhere now," Veronique shrugged. "Shoes are all over the place. My toilet paper's completely disappeared." She looked over to Lori. "Those are my earrings. And my grandmother's mirror," she laughed pointing behind Otis.

Otis turned and shielded his eyes.

"What the fuck?" He ducked away from the mirror. It was glowing like the sun. Veronique laughed again.

"Grace and Lori were arguing all night about where to put it. Grace thought you might like some sun," Veronique looked him up and down. "I can see her point now. You're very pale."

"I am actually allergic to the sun," Otis backed into the kitchen.

"Yeah, that's what Lori said. That's not real though right? You just don't like the sun."

"I promise you it's very real," Otis noticed a glass China cabinet in place of his dining table. "Where's my table?"

"Corinne hosted a dinner party at her place last night. You know, if you don't like the sun, why don't you stay up with us tonight?"

"I like the sun, I do. I am actually allergic. I have to call the building manager," Otis said quietly.

"Hey, Otis. Come on," Thatcher shouted from his chair. "We're friends, dude."

"You've destroyed my home," Otis fished his phone out of his robe.

"And you took his Doritos," added Veronique.

"Oh these are yours? Sorry man," said Thatcher.

"This isn't okay. I want my home back." Otis pulled up the building manager in his recent contacts.

"Otis, you're being kind of douchey," Reggie stretched on the sofa. "We're trying to sleep here."

"You're trying to sleep?" Otis repeated. "I haven't had a good night's sleep in a week."

Reggie pushed Aiden over and patted the spot between them. "Come nap with us, buddy."

"No."

"Otis," Veronique said. "You can sit with me."

"No, I want all of you out," Otis asserted. "Get your stuff out. I want my table back."

"No, dude. We're sleeping," said Thatcher.

A phone was buzzing on Otis's counter.

"Otis, could you toss me my phone," Lori groaned.

Otis picked it up and looked at it. It was the building manager's number; he knew it by heart. He answered.

"Hello?"

"He- this isn't Lori."

"She's asleep."

"Oh. Well, tell her I'll see her tonig..."

Otis threw the phone into the China cabinet before he could finish. Glass flew everywhere. The shelves inside collapsed into a porcelain waterfall.

"Otis? My phone?" Lori jumped off the sofa confused.

"Corinne's going to be pissed about the cabinet, dude," Thatcher added. Veronique stared at Otis, half-asleep, half-disappointed.

"I said 'get out.'" Otis repeated. He picked up a glass and threw it across the non-existent wall into the other apartment. It exploded into an cuckoo clock over Gab's head. She rolled over fast asleep as the cuckoo cried pathetically.

"Are you trying to kill Gab?" Reggie pushed off the couch and took a few steps towards Otis. "Calm down man. That was Keller’s grandfather’s clock."

Otis looked around, his near-frown was now a smile. He found a key ring and jingled it around in front of Reggie.

"Hey, those are mine," called Thatcher.

Otis winged them at the mirror in the center of the room. Shards flew everywhere.

"Screw you Otis," Veronique got up and stepped toward the mess. "My grandmother left me that." She looked up at Otis.

Otis had never felt a rush like this before. He searched the counter for more things.

"Lori," called Veronique. "Open the curtains."

"Lori," echoed Otis. "Get out of my home."

"Not until you say sorry," Lori whined. "You broke my screen." She walked over to the kitchen windows. "Well Otis?"

Otis grabbed a beer off the counter and chucked it at her. It bounced off a wall popped like a balloon. Lori glared and pulled the curtain down. As each ring snapped, a dagger of sunlight shot across the room. Otis was cornered by the fridge. He didn't even put his sunscreen on this morning.

"Well Otis," Veronique smirked. "Want to apologize?" She picked up a shard of mirror and started reflecting light closer and closer to his head.

Otis opened the fridge door to block the beam and looked around the counter in a panic. There was a canister on the counter he'd never seen before. He popped off the lid, and closed the fridge.

"What are you doing man?" Thatcher called out from the recliner. "Don't mess with my grandfather's ashes."

Otis flipped the urn over his head. As the ashes coated his pale veiny skin the screams of all his tormenters became a blur. He stepped into the light, unstoppable, and hurled the emptied urn at an open pizza box.

"What the hell?" Reggie cried. "We weren't done with that."