Noisy Neighbors

Fortunately, the sound you thought was your alarm actually wasn't. Unfortunately, it's your neighbor blasting heavy metal at 5:00 in the morning.

You live in an old building with thick brick walls, but the six inches of plaster and stone can't shield you from the rhythmic bangs and screeching strings flowing in from next door. Even your usual pillow-over-the-ear trick won't spare your eardrums from the cacophony.

Groaning, you slip out of bed in just your pajama pants, throw on an old t-shirt, and shuffle out into the hallway. There are only three apartments on this floor, one of which is vacant. The other is occupied by Karina, who had moved in a year after you had. She seemed cool at first, in that attractive goth-punk kind of way, but her absurd sleep schedule and expensive stereo system (not to mention her attitude) had made any notions of friendship between you two whither and die two years ago. Now, you tried as hard as you could to ignore her increasingly loud music taste and did your best to avoid bumping into her in the hallway.

So why are you going to confront her about it now? It's not like this morning is any different from any other time she's woken you up. Maybe you're just tired, maybe it's the fact that it's Saturday, maybe it's those weird dreams you keep having. Regardless, now you're outside her door and have nothing better to do.

You knock, the cold wood hard against your knuckles. No response. You knock again, louder this time, and the door suddenly opens halfway.

Karina sticks her head out. Her makeup is oddly impeccable for such an early hour, black eyeliner and shadow and deep red lipstick all in perfect place. She wears her long black hair in a straight waterfall to frame her face, which is slightly more tan than you expected from someone with her aesthetic choices. She also wears a set of bright silver earrings dangling long against her slender neck.

She has to yell to be heard over the music, which is now blasting you full through the open door. "What?"

"Can you turn the music down?"

"WHAT?"

"I SAID," you raise your voice until your lungs hurt, "CAN YOU TURN DOWN THE MUSIC?"

She vanishes back into the apartment, and a second later a record scratch bursts from the speakers. Was she using vinyl? Who the hell still uses vinyl?

Her head reappears in the doorway. "What do you want?"

You sigh. "It's five in the morning. Weekends are the only time I get to sleep in, so I'd appreciate it if you would-"

She cuts you off. "It's five? I thought it was only three!"

Well, that just made it worse. "Please, Karina, could you not play your music so loud, especially when other people are trying to sleep."

"Um, like, I get what you're saying, but I'm in my apartment right now. I don't tell you how to handle your shit, don't tell me how to handle mine, 'kay?" She smiles the flattest smile you've ever seen. "Thanks, bye."

She goes to close the door, but you manage to hold it open for a moment longer. "Would you rather I complain to the super, or would you rather we resolve this between ourselves?"

She blinks for a moment. "I'd rather we resolve this between ourselves." There's a long pause, and she seems to be confused about something. "Listen, is there a compromise we can work out? I just want to get this sorted out without involving anyone else."