Regrettable Greta

“Hi, I just moved into the apartment next to you,” she said. “My name is Greta and I wanted to come over and introduce myself to you. After all, we’re going to be neighbors.”

“Hello,” Paul responded. “I’m Paul. Welcome to the building, Greta.”

“Thank you, Paul. May I come in?”

“Oh, sure.” Paul opened the door, invited Greta in, and motioned for her to sit on the sofa. He took a seat on the chair opposite the couch. “Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water?” She’s kinda good looking, Paul thought.

“No, I’m good. As I said, I just wanted to introduce myself and tell you a little about me,” Greta said. “First, I have a dog, but he’s very well behaved and doesn’t bark that much. You like dogs, don’t you?”

Before Paul could respond, Greta continued. “And I’m a drummer for an all-girl’s grunge band. But I only practice during the day, so my drumming won’t bother you at night.”

“But I ….”

“And I am a bit of a party girl, if I do say so myself,” Greta admitted. “So I will probably invite a bunch of friends over after our band’s gigs, but only on weekend nights. You should feel free to join us.”

“Thanks for sharing, Greta,” Paul said. “You should know that I work for a technology company as part of its tech support team and I work from home during the day helping customers with their computer issues. So a barking dog and the sounds of drumming coming through these relatively thin walls probably won’t work for me.”

“Well,” said Greta. “That’s regrettable, Paul, but what can I say? You can’t expect me to change my life to adjust to your stupid job, can you? What ever happen to neighborly flexibility?”

Greta stood up, turned to the door, opened it, and started to walk out. Before shutting it behind her, she said, “See? This is what you get when you try to be good neighbors.”

Written for today’s one-word prompt, “neighbor.”

Friday Fictioneers — Pottery

“I like the one with the conch shell on top,” Harriet said, pointing. She started to reach out to grab it when the docent smacked her hand. “Look but don’t touch,” she chastised.

“But I want to see if I can hear the ocean if I put it up to my ear,” Harriet responded.

The docent smiled. “That’s a popular myth. You can’t really hear the ocean in a shell. That rushing sound you hear is ambient noise resonating within the cavity of the shell.”

Disappointed, Harriet looked at the other items on display. “Boring!” she exclaimed and walked away.

(100 words)

Written for this week’s Friday Fictioneers prompt from Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.