“Damn apartment buildings! They make me feel like I’m in a sealed box with a pack of clawing rats.” Freddie struck a match and brought it to the cigarette stub fused to his bottom lip. “Your neighbours woke me up again last night. Same time, three in the morning, just screaming and thumping on the wall. How am I supposed to rest in peace with that nonsense going on.”
Glen sighed. “Dude, there’s nothing on the other side of that wall. You know that. The place burned down a couple of months ago. Hundreds of people died.”
“I think I would remember that.” Freddie said, locking eyes with Glen through the plume of smoke.
“God, I wish you would remember. I’ve been telling you every morning for months! Why can’t you get it through your thick fucking skull?” Glen was angry, his patience was wearing thin. He told himself anger didn’t work. He had tried to convince Freddie many times, in many different ways. This conversation was now a permanent fixture of his morning routine, and he wanted it to stop.
“If the entire building next door burnt down I would definitely remember. I’m not brain dead.” Freddie replied, insulted that his memory was in question.
Glen placed his index fingers on his temples and massaged in small circles. “Okay, listen closely. You are dead! You died in the fire. You are a charred piece of talking flesh camped out on my couch. You need to leave.”
“Sure thing man, later, later.” Freddie replied, he was no longer listening. He gestured a sign of resignation to Glen with the remnants of his left arm, as he begins muttering to himself. “Maybe I could buy some ear plugs or something.”