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Chapter 4 by willypep willypep

Does his daydream continue?

Nope, he's interrupted.

He was ready to oblige her request when the microwave timer pierced his daydream and brought him back to his dingy apartment and his steaming TV dinner. Ethan sighed and gingerly pulled his meal out and set it on the kitchen counter. No point in moving, he thought, so he pulled the plastic film back and ate his dinner in the kitchen, watching Youtube with his phone propped against a dirty glass. He felt a little guilty about his filthy daydreams--he barely even knew his hot neighbor--but he supposed it didn't hurt anyone to spin a little fantasy. He washed some dishes and flopped onto his living room couch to watch some TV before bed. He laid there half-rewatching an old sitcom and swiping through Tinder for about an hour as the evening flew by. Exhausted, he faded into a half-sleep and woke up an hour or so later. He looked up through the window to see a small crowd gathering in his neighbor's living room. Her lamp had been swapped for blue-purple ambient lighting and a glittering "Happy Birthday Alexa" sign was thrown up on the wall. He could see a bit less than twenty people squeezed into her apartment milling around, chatting, swaying to music. It was getting a little hot with so many bodies squeezed in one room. Ethan's neighbor stepped out of her apartment and onto the walkway with a friend, a shorter girl with wavy, jet-black hair. They sat down on the stairs and he saw her pull out a pack and light a cigarette. She had put on ruby red lipstick. The light on her walkway was broken, and the two friends were only lit by the purple light from her living room and the glowing ember being passed between their lips. Ethan saw the cigarette stained red from her lips and groaned in frustration.

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He pulled out Tinder and began swiping desperately, but to no avail. He peered over his phone and watched the smoke blowing around her head. He felt some movement in his boxers, so he walked into his bedroom with some embarrassment to blow off steam before bed. He must not have realized how tired he was, because as soon as he laid down with a box of tissue on his bedside table his eyelids felt like they were weighted down. He fought his sleepiness as he opened his phone to find a good video to watch. As he looked for the right video his neighbor began waltzing into his head. Her stained lips, her cheek in his hand, her begging eyes. He could almost feel her hand reaching out to grab him. His eyes drew closed and his phone fell onto the bed as he drifted to sleep.

What does he dream of?

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