The sound of loneliness

  Thump. 

Marie opens her eyes ever so slightly and shifts under the sheets, fixing the pillow under her head to a more comfortable position and shuffling her feet in appreciation of the warm covers. Her little apartment in the center of the city is quite susceptible to the harsh winter cold. The air whistles through the cracks on the window and the floorboards creak under the weight of the moisture. 

  She closes her eyes again.

A soft music plays in her mind as she is taken back to her dreams, of ages old, filled with love in the air and the soft warmth of company. In the days when she lived in a house, the size of her entire building, with her husband. In her dream the sun radiates happily, more so than she lets herself believe to have been the case and yet allows it, for it makes the moment in her dream ever so magical. 

  Thump.

She opens her eyes again, quite annoyed this time for she was enjoying herself very much indeed. She slowly rises and exposes herself to the harsh, dry cold of her room. She turns to her nightstand and clicks the lamp alight. 

  The clock reads 3:03.

  She lets her feet dangle off the bedside and with a soft groan pushes herself off the bed and into her slippers. She grabs her cane by the window and makes her way to the kitchen. Perhaps some water will help her go back to sleep more easily, she thinks to herself as she tastes the dryness of the air. She grabs a glass and fills it with lukewarm water before gulping it as fast as her fragile throat allows her.

  Thump. 

Quite the nerve they have, making such noise at three in the morning! She leaves the glass hastily on the counter and moves to the living room, she waits for a moment until, thump. The noise comes from right above her. She grabs the side of a chair for balance and raises her cane to the ceiling, knocking a couple of times. That ought to do it, she thinks. 

  She goes back to her bed and shuts the lamp off. The neon light from the hostel just outside her house shines through her curtains allowing for a little light, just enough to comfortably let her see in the dark and yet not be much of an inconvenience to let her sleep. She hides beneath the sheets and closes her eyes. A few minutes pass by and her unease has yet to subside. She changes sides and shifts the pillow this way and that. Just as she is about to nod off again, thump. 

  That’s it, she is calling the police now. She hastily gets out of bed, rushes to the living room and picks up the phone;

  How can we help? 

“I live in St. Valimore street, the fourth unit. I am calling for a noise complaint.” She takes a moment to catch her breath and awaits a response.

  Mrs Marie, is this you again?

“Yes, but I am telling you they are at it again! They are making noise and I just can’t shut my eyes and have a proper night’s rest for once. Just please, will you send someone?” Her voice has a tone of despair painted onto it, she wipes a tear away and begs for a while longer.

  It’s okay Mrs Marie, we will be sending someone over shortly, don’t worry too much about it.

The line beeps as it falls flat and she stands there looking at herself in the mirror for a few moments before hanging up the phone. 

  Thump. 

Ridiculous! She checks the clock again, 3:34 it reads this time. She grabs her coat and opens the front door. She moves carefully to the stairs and one by one slowly ascends the staircase. Apt. 304, that’s the one right above hers. She knocks on the door and shouts “Please be quiet! Some of us are trying to sleep.” She waits a moment for a response but nothing comes back. She knocks again and shouts once more. 

  She sits on the staircase awaiting for the police to come and file an official report to the landlord. It’ll serve them quite right, she agrees and focuses on the pattern of the staircase while she waits. After a while, Thump, she hears the noise coming through the door of the apartment. Unbelievable! She goes up to the door and bangs on it, “Stop making noise!” she screams. At that moment she hears the front door of her building ding open and the hasty, heavy steps of someone running up the stairs. She looks back and sees an officer, “Finally! Please, tell them to open the door and be quiet! I can’t stand the noise no more.” The officer grabs her by the arm gently and tells her that all will be well as he guides her back to her apartment. 

  “You don’t understand, officer, they have been making noise all night long! I can’t sleep!”

'It’s alright Mrs Marie, we will talk to them and all will turn well, won’t it?'

The officer leads her to her bed and kindly covers her under the sheets. 

'You know, Mrs Marie, I can see that you’ve not been taking your medicine.'

  “I am not crazy! I am telling you these pills only do harm, no good!”

'It’s alright, I understand but remember when you took them and the noise went away? It is not the first time you have called us, in fact you’ve been calling us all month long.'

  “And what’s wrong with that if they can’t stay quiet for the life of them!” She seems quite distressed now. 

'You need to understand Mrs Marie, there is no one living in the apartment above. In fact, there is no one living in the entire building but yourself!'

  “What?”

Her eyes glitter in the soft light of the neon sign. Tears form at the base of her eyes and her breathing grows quite uneasy. 

'Don’t you remember Mrs Marie? This is no apartment building, it’s a clinic.'

Now that he said it, his uniform has turned rather white, and, where’s his badge? She looks at her side almost instinctively and searches for a picture, not quite sure why. Thankfully she sees it, a picture of her husband.

  A picture before he hanged himself, the soft thump of his feet as he rocked back and forth, knocking on the wall ever so softly.

  Thump.