Watching the piles of clothes around her, she suddenly realized there were better ways to spend a day off.
She could have booked an afternoon at the spa, or crashed her best friend’s place with a bottle of wine to binge watch a random series on Netflix… But no, for some reason, she had decided to tame the jungle in her bedroom closet.
She was about to plunge back in, when it first happened.
She jumped and hit her head on the bottom shelf. The hit on the wall was so loud that she crawled out of the closet, her heart racing like crazy. She rubbed the back of her head, and cursed at her next door neighbour.
She couldn’t believe he was at it again. It wasn’t the first time these knocks happened. The prior week, the bangs kept making her stepping up, every now and then. Day and night.
Calming down, she went back to her cleaning business, really wanting to sort her shoes and boots to make room in all the cluther. As soon as she started to pick pairs out of the closet, it started again…
BAM! BAM! BAM! BAAAAAAAAAAAM!!
That was it.
She rushed downstairs, straight to the landlord’s apartment. She rang and Mr. Johnson answered, greeting her in.
Mr Johnson, you have to do something… The guy in apartment 23 keeps slamming on the adjoining wall.
The landlord waited a moment…
Oh Sweety, don’t you know? Mr Harrison committed suicide two weeks ago.
This short fiction is a ”practice” for November’s NYC Midnight 250 word Microfiction Challenge, using one of the NYC Midnight Challenges previous prompts: Ghost story / Organizing a closet / Neighbour.