Platial | Who and What's Nearby
Platial | Who and What's Nearby
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I sit on my roommates bed holding her while she cries about her fight. Only only a few white and blue Christmas lights strung around the top corners of her room light her room. Her computer monitor had fallen in sleep mode. She sits there nestled up in-between my two pink sleeves. The apartment smells of fettuccine because that is what was on the stove cooking when the fight occurred.
I had just ran to the near by Target to pick up some glue for a project I was working on. I left the two of them in the kitchen happily cooking dinner. I stood at Target and debated about the different types of glue I could buy. Generic verse Elmer’s, and then clear glue verse that deep white glue. I ended up buying a .24 cent bottle of clear Elmer’s glue. (I think it was miss-marked.) I checked out and went back into the dark, cold night and travel the mile back to the apartment.
I unlocked the door, which I hadn’t locked before leaving twenty minutes ago. The fettuccine noodles were boiling over on the stove, and water from the pot was dripping on the floor. The white creamy sauce was boiling high splashing again the microwave, making a mess. Where was my roommate?
All of a sudden I hear deep sobs coming down the hall in the apartment. All the lights are off, except of the glare of Full House that was on the living room. (I had left the TV on when I left to go on my errand.) I stood there in the cream colored hall, holding my Target bag, and debated on whether or not I should disturb her. I walk lightly over to the coat closet, next to her room, and hung up my brown coat. I stood outside her door for a moment and tapped on the door. It wasn’t my roommate that answered; it was her boyfriend saying, “she is fine.”
Frighten by the situation I ran back to the living room and sat down on the green couch. I turned the volume up on the TV, took out my glue, and started glue together my project. I could still heat her sobs coming from the room down the hall, and occasionally a males voice would be yelling. I just kept on turning the TV louder and louder to drain any noises in the background.
Full House was ending, and he came storming out of her room. He slipped on his blue flip-flops and left the apartment. I sat there and stared down the empty hall. I didn’t know if I should invade on her privacy or not. I stood in the kitchen and started to clean up the mess that was created. She came out of her room. Her eyes were swollen, and her face was as red as Santa’s suit. “Let me clean this up. I made the mess.” I told her not to worry and gave her a glass of ginger al. She sat on the green couch while I worked on cleaning the mess up. She just stared at the white painted walls, and then turned her head slightly toward me and started sobbing again. I looked at her and she ran into her room.
I dried my hands off, and went down that hall, opened her door, and sat next to her on her bed. I opened my arms and she crawled right into them, and just sobbed and sobbed.
We have never spoken about that night, and I have no idea what the fight was about. I know that I was home at the right time, for my best friend was in need of a shoulder to cry on.
I sit on my roommates bed holding her while she cries about her fight. Only only a few white and blue Christmas lights strung around the top corners of her room light her room. Her computer monitor had fallen in sleep mode. She sits there nestled up in-between my two pink sleeves. The apartment smells of fettuccine because that is what was on the stove cooking when the fight occurred.
I had just ran to the near by Target to pick up some glue for a project I was working on. I left the two of them in the kitchen happily cooking dinner. I stood at Target and debated about the different types of glue I could buy. Generic verse Elmer’s, and then clear glue verse that deep white glue. I ended up buying a .24 cent bottle of clear Elmer’s glue. (I think it was miss-marked.) I checked out and went back into the dark, cold night and travel the mile back to the apartment.
I unlocked the door, which I hadn’t locked before leaving twenty minutes ago. The fettuccine noodles were boiling over on the stove, and water from the pot was dripping on the floor. The white creamy sauce was boiling high splashing again the microwave, making a mess. Where was my roommate?
All of a sudden I hear deep sobs coming down the hall in the apartment. All the lights are off, except of the glare of Full House that was on the living room. (I had left the TV on when I left to go on my errand.) I stood there in the cream colored hall, holding my Target bag, and debated on whether or not I should disturb her. I walk lightly over to the coat closet, next to her room, and hung up my brown coat. I stood outside her door for a moment and tapped on the door. It wasn’t my roommate that answered; it was her boyfriend saying, “she is fine.”
Frighten by the situation I ran back to the living room and sat down on the green couch. I turned the volume up on the TV, took out my glue, and started glue together my project. I could still heat her sobs coming from the room down the hall, and occasionally a males voice would be yelling. I just kept on turning the TV louder and louder to drain any noises in the background.
Full House was ending, and he came storming out of her room. He slipped on his blue flip-flops and left the apartment. I sat there and stared down the empty hall. I didn’t know if I should invade on her privacy or not. I stood in the kitchen and started to clean up the mess that was created. She came out of her room. Her eyes were swollen, and her face was as red as Santa’s suit. “Let me clean this up. I made the mess.” I told her not to worry and gave her a glass of ginger al. She sat on the green couch while I worked on cleaning the mess up. She just stared at the white painted walls, and then turned her head slightly toward me and started sobbing again. I looked at her and she ran into her room.
I dried my hands off, and went down that hall, opened her door, and sat next to her on her bed. I opened my arms and she crawled right into them, and just sobbed and sobbed.
We have never spoken about that night, and I have no idea what the fight was about. I know that I was home at the right time, for my best friend was in need of a shoulder to cry on.
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