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"Outside there was a prolonged rumbling. Thunder? Or just a passing jet?Marcia cubed the apple she'd been cutting and threw the pieces into astew pot....She mixed in the brown sugar, butter, flour, and chopped nuts.Then she stirred in the spices: clove, nutmeg, and cinnamon. She waitedfor the contents of the pot to boil and turned down the flame. Addedsome water. In a matter of minutes, the little kitchen was filled withan aroma almost as delicious and satisfying as a wedge of the finishedpie. (I was thrilled to the core). As I was conversing with the watchman I found a car honking at me. I was blocking the small entrance to the apartment ground floor parking area. On seeing the lady no words can explain how happy I was.As the watchman continued telling his problems my eyes followed her until she disappeared after climbing some floors. Most of my evenings I started to spend talking with the watchman and waiting for the lady. My thoughts were completely drowned on how to start.I tried. But you get the idea. Now don’t get me wrong. I’m no woman-hater. Far from it. While I was living in the city, women were my obssession. And it wasn’t just sex. I felt I needed the warmth of female companionship. Male bonding was all well and good, but without a woman nearby I felt a cold, black emptiness within me. Hell, once I even let an old bag lady share my loft, just for the company, but I had to throw her out when I found out she was stealing my art supplies and selling them to the guy. She does not speak, she only stares back at me. My fear swiftly resurfaces and my body hums with the urge to turn tail and dust a trail out of there; but I can not move. I can only stand, frozen in fear as i watch her face, observe her face, and study her face. Suddenly I find myself being pulled towards her, towards her unearthly gaze. My fear grows exponentially causing an immediate white streak to line a portion of my jet black hair. Lost in the turbulent waves of my fear, when I return to.
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