Mr. Footstep

I always wondered what it would feel like to have your own space - freedom of your choices vs longing to have another human companion under same roof. Leaning towards later part, I always found a roommate. 

And then comes the point in life where it does not matter anymore and you transition towards having your own space. It is quite liberating to set up your space as per your liking, decorate your balcony, build your garden, give motivational talks to those seeds to germinate faster as you can not wait, talk to whispering wind whenever it chimes. 

Fact check, no other tenant has your apartment keys! Fridge shelf is not divided, living room is your own, you do not hear another footstep at your door twisting the knob. Wait a minute, is it happening or am I dreaming. I hear those footsteps, sliding sound of glass door. Where is it coming from? Do I have invisible companion?

I thought, finally I would learn to embrace the moment of solitude but god had another plans. And I like it. I trace your steps, Mr. footstep. Yes, that's the name I gave you. You did not know that, how would you? We have not met yet.  I did not get chance to miss another companion yet.  Your floor is my ceiling, I find you walking right above. You neither crawl nor run, optimum sound of walking footsteps in this super quite apartment which is otherwise occasionally filled with loud noise of burring AC unit.

Days are getting hotter for typical April month, 90 F, seriously. Other night, I woke up feeling suffocated, and you were up too. Moving from bedroom to living room to kitchen. Getting water? Not to be noisy but I can trace you. And then  there is sound of sliding glass door of balcony at 3 am in morning. Getting fresh air? It always soothes my senses too.

Yesterday was rainy day, I felt cozy sitting on my couch. Heard no footsteps. Reached main door to get my mails and noticed all cars were back in their designated parking spots. So you were home and no movement, felt lazy on a rainy weekend? Or slept whole afternoon? Though I did not hear any snoring that fine afternoon. Maybe I was busy listening to raindrops smashing and kissing my glass door. Those walking feet must be tired Mr. footstep. Rest them as they deserve.

After three weeks of tracing your footstep, today while entering in the building from backdoor, I noticed an arm out of that glass door with a lit cigarette. My first real interaction, not with you but with your burning cigarette butt.

Today again I woke up in middle of night, no it was not any nightmare or heat suffocation. I heard those walking footsteps again and sound of sliding glass door. Ah, that sound is giving me headache pounding now and then. I am an early bird and prefer to have full night sleep. Perspective changes. Dozing off!