I looked to my left and saw a girl meekly waving at me. She wore glasses, had a bob cut, and was dressed in nightwear. She was the girl who lived next door, an art student in college. I didn’t remember her name. But not because I didn’t care about her or anything. I’m just bad at remembering names, just as it always is with introverts of my sort. “Good evening, miss shut-in,” I replied. “You’re up early today.” “Give me that,” requested the art student. “The thing in your mouth.” “This?”, I asked, pointing at the cigarette. “Yeah. That.” I reached out and handed her the partly-smoked cigarette. As always, her veranda was packed with decorative plants, like a miniature forest. She had a small stepladder laid on top of the left and right edges serving as a flower stand, and a red garden chair was situated in the center. The plants were very carefully tended to and looked vibrant and lively, unlike their owner. “So you went out yesterday,” she observed, taking smoke into her lungs. “Not what I’ve come to expect from you.” “Aren’t I great?”, I replied. “Oh yeah... I was just about to call for you. You get the newspaper every day, right?” “Yeah, but I only ever read the front page. What about it?” “I want to read this morning’s paper.” “Hm. Okay then, come over,” the art student told me. “I was about to call for you too, for tonight’s walk.” I went out into the hall and into her room. This made the second time she’d let me inside. The first time had been a request for some company to drink her sorrows away with, and I tell you, I’d never seen someone living in such a messy place in my life. I mean, I wouldn’t call it dirty. It was orderly enough. The size of the room and how much she owned just didn’t agree. She must have been the type to