My neighbour is very young to be living on his own. He can’t be more than seventeen, but I’ve never seen anyone enter his place. No friend, no family, no girl.
White skin, stormy eyes, something disturbing in his demeanour.
When I leave home, I see him stare at me through the dirty window. He never says a word though. When I come home, I hear his breathing in the dark corridor, but never his voice. One morning I tried to make contact.
“Hey you, in there!”
No answers. Just a blank look. Another day, I knock on the door.
“Wanna drop by and have lunch with me?”
I hear him lock his door. Ok then, I am the big bad she-wolf…
Sometimes, I lay on my bed, trying to understand his unnerving look, his weird loneliness. Why doesn’t he answer? I feel bad about him; I’ve felt cold and nervous since I moved in.
One night, I am on the balcony, having a smoke, watching the moon rise up slowly, as my fingers grow cold from the freezing air. And I hear him. Only a whisper, but clear, just as unnerving as the frozen look he gives me each day.
“I am cold,” he tells me.
For a short moment, I don’t know if I am dreaming, hearing things. I can’t see him on the balcony but I know it’s him.
“It is going to snow,” I answer softly.
“I wish I could see it.”
I don’t understand him, but I think he does not wish to be reached. My mind searches for him in the darkness.
“You will, I’m sure.”
There is nothing else I can answer. The snow will be down before dawn.
“I am cold,” he whispers once more.
I wonder who he is.
Next morning, the snow begins to fall. He is not at the window.