The Neighbor

I am afraid to leave my apartment, which is strange because a man died here. He died on the sidewalk below my balcony, actually. What I’ve come to refer to as bloodsand was the only change the next day. No yellow crime tape, only orange-soaked sand swept up to the wooden edging that encapsulates dark brush. The many hues of the Mediterranean continue to surprise me. The way the water shape-shifts from nearly black to the light blue of the sky to something nearly green. I am afraid of silence, of the things my mind will tell me, of the shaking in my chest. It’s been this way for nearly a year. The antipsychotics are helping. I am a reliable narrator. A month earlier, you could have questioned me, but I’m stable now. I take several Xanax and pack a light backpack. I put in an audiobook. One that starts at the After. An unnamed character has fallen to their death. I’ve listened to nearly a hundred domestic thrillers this year and this is the most common way they die, except poisoning. That happens a lot too. The Sentier du Littoral is rocky with cliffs and constant views of the […]