This is a short-short that I wrote for my Form & Theory of Fiction class. I thought I would share and all feedback is welcome and appreciated.
A Studio Apartment for Two
That’s what the ad said – studio apt for 2. It lied. The apartment was very small and very open, having one, stall-sized room enclosing a toilet. I’d know him for years before we moved to the city, so we made it work. We put up curtains to delegate “bedrooms” and a changing wall in front of the shower. It was a shitty neighborhood, but we were adults, we were independent, we were poor – this was all we could afford.
I couldn’t have men over – he heard everything! He wouldn’t have women over – he never met any to invite. My singing disrupted his writing, his television disrupted my sleep. I left hair in the shower drain, he left molding dishes in the sink. We didn’t know anyone, I only ever met men, and then only for a little while. At some point we stopped speaking. Not out of anger, we just ran out of things to say to each other – I went to auditions, he wrote all day long. I slept when he was awake and I was gone before he was up.
This went on for months until I caught him peeking past the changing wall when I stepped out of the shower. I pretended like I hadn’t seen him looking and then fantasized about him on the subway to my audition. The day I peeked past the changing wall, I stopped meeting other men. We started speaking again. We didn’t flirt, we couldn’t, it was awkward. Then it happened, thanks to wine and the six-month anniversary of our move to the apartment. We consummated our yearning, our loneliness, our frustrations, our studio apartment for two.–fin