I live in an apartment building where the residents are stories just waiting to be written down. The first "story" set in my apartment building was posted on my Facebook page not too long ago. I enjoyed writing it so much that I decided to continue the series - turning events and conversations in my apartment building into stories.
I hope you enjoy them.
He spoke to me of turning fifty the next day and how his mother wanted to throw a party for him. When he said the word "party", he frowned as if he'd eaten a lemon. I couldn't believe that he would soon be fifty; he looked to be about my age if not younger, or perhaps it was because of where we lived. When I told him that my birthday was around the corner, he smiled. He wore a simple black shirt that showed off Bill Murray's face with wrinkled khaki pants to complete the look. I thought he was an artist and for a moment, I wanted to ask him if he used special brushes for his paintings. Before we spoke of birthdays, we talked about a Buddha statue I purchased at a thrift store because it looked too lonely sitting among long forgotten Christmas decorations. When I laughed while complaining to him about the statue's weight as I tried to get it in the elevator, he laughed with me and claimed that Buddha was teaching me a lesson. Now, every time I walk by the statue in my living room, I'm inclined to agree with him.
(model: Alissa Brielle - copyright 2015, Memphis)