Duplex Duplicity [From Above]

Notes on Being Close Enough to Hear, But Far Enough to Never Speak.

We met a couple weeks after I moved in. The porch was bright, like our cis male smiles —

lit by casual conversation on our similar educational and career backgrounds.

       Time passed month by month with polite nods outside, 

while a muffled cacophony of song and sound inside indicated the arrival of each new weekend.

Disruption came alongside the realization my bathroom directly broadcast to his bedroom the same muffled cacophony. 

Yet where his sounds posed a brotherly blithe, mine once pierced the dead of night with effeminacy exaggerated.                      

      "Shut up    you fucking     faggot !"

Choice words.

The duplex gets complex.

The warmth subsided. Polite nods became less frequent.

  Reminders of our existence punctuated only by sounds of plumbing and pictures thumbed left.

A mishap marked the next interaction. 

A quick, keyless sushi run while his laundry buzzed behind our shared front door. Not a choice decision"Hey man, sorry to bother ya. I'm locked out, can ya help a brother out?"

He let me in.

               More months with more sounds passed. 

A hard knock at the door occurred while music supplemented my makeup application.

"Hey, sorry to bother ya. I blew a fuse. Mind if I fix the switch?"

"Hiya, just a moment please," I responded from my locked front door.

I blustered through my messy kitchen to reveal the switches from under their cover.

"Feel free to come in! I'm just getting ready for work in the bathroom."

Minutes passed and a cheerful thank you came through the bathroom door.

"You're an absolute legend. I appreciate you so much!" as the door closed behind him.

                      More months marked by mundane murmurs —

accompanied by brief musical interludes from our speakers.

My friend got a glimpse of him and his girlfriend getting frisky from the frame of his window.

I heeded his hedonism, and ceded sensual sounds to my ceiling through each fling.

                               The months became years and a quick stop at the convenience store signaled his departure.

"Did you hear your upstairs neighbour is moving out next month?"

                                                  "End of an era," I observed genially.

I returned with a snack set next to my piano.

I adjusted the volume one more notch up to seven and started singing a little louder.