Nightbird

The crackled hiss of my third drag invigorates my senses. The smooth menthol glides into my lungs and a sip of Brandy washes that down. I find myself day dreaming among the darkness of the witching hours. 3:37am. A “hoot” in the distance from a fellow night owl, cuts through the silence. Like him, I am perched outside my balcony window, loosely wrapped in my baby-blue robe, and freely exposing my naked body, as the breeze pulls at its edges. The night air is just chilly enough to lift the goosebumps from my skin. My mind is at peace. Darkness, you are my best friend. You've never betrayed me. My hand raises for another drag, but I am rudely broken from my mindful trance by Cynthia, the rude and deplorable bitch next door.

"What the fuck is she doing? " I mumble, while exhaling a less than satisfied cloud into the air.

I stoop my body for a better look, careful to remain hidden behind my plants. She is struggling to drag something, a bag I think, but her heave and pull method, though it works, is clearly creating an unnecessary workout. She stops every ten feet to catch her breath and minutes go by until she finally makes it to the trunk of her green Subaru Outback. She wheezes while standing the bag up against the bumper, and manhandles it with her shoulders and legs the rest of the way up. A forceful hip check finishes the job. Cautiously, she closes the hatchback with a faint click, and with immediacy scurries to the driver’s side. The hue of white and red car lights illuminates my face and the shadows of my plants are cast across the side of my house. Just as abruptly as she intruded my night, she equally vanishes from it, and my cloak of darkness is restored, but my curiosity of the bizarre event that I just had witnessed continues to scratch the inside of my skull. Where the hell is her husband, Bill?