Transition

The news had come as a shock. At least, I think that's what you're supposed to say. When something like this happens you're always left wondering if you could've connected the dots, saw where the person was headed before they offed themselves. Wondering what the last thing they said to you was and playing it back to make it sound even more cryptic and knowing. I'll see ya around becomes a track that plays in your head over and over, the words landing slow and deliberate in memory, haunting...did that person know then?
But I don't know if I wasn't shocked because I just figured it would happen sooner or later, or if it was my complete lack of interest. That's why when Atta, war-painted with mascara, informed me that the writer next door had killed himself, I answered with a dumb, "Who?"
Mild curiosity turned into something dubious as she told me the details. The creases in my brow flared, "I don't think three stories would kill someone." Her reaction to that was the first inkling I had that I may not be an outstanding human being; well, the first inkling that day.
She didn't quite slam the door but I got the message. For the next ten minutes I stared out my own window and fantasied about killing myself. Then I started to wonder why his windows opened and mine didn't. This wasn't my biggest moment. I considered he may have broken the window to get through but that didn't seem to match all the movies I'd seen. No one ever broke a window out in a rage and took a nose dive, did they? I started to laugh at that but I pretended I was coughing so Atta wouldn't hear.
I vaguely wondered if O.A.D.S. was pulling a publicity stunt, then I wondered if it would work and started looking at my window again. I opened my drawer and looked for the business card that the deceased had left for me that time, concerning the houseplant in the hall, but I couldn't find it. I had suspected Atta had been watering the damn thing for a while now, it looked like I was going to find out.

I answered the phone, figuring Atta would be out of commission for a while.
"Hello? Yes. Well, I suppose. Tomorrow? Two o'clock? You're name, sir? Huh, that's funny. No, nothing. See you then!"

Someone wanted to rent the space. I hope there wasn't Crime Scene tape up or anything.