You'll hear a lot growing up.
From people who think they've mastered the art of life- talking about community, solitude, relationships, and everything else you're meant to experience while you're here.
They'll tell you that everyone deserves a choice in this world. What they won't tell you is how to live with the choices you make. And even if they try- you won't understand it.
That's life.
Change is hard.
Change is important.
Change is inevitable.
So when Amy decided to leave the big city and everything it held behind- to find a small town quiet enough to hear herself think? She counted that as an achievement. A second one, if you must.
She was the fourth of nine children. Being heard had never come easy in her household. But, to be fair, you have to have something to say to be heard- and Amy never felt like she did. What else was there to say about hunger when you knew someone who had died from starvation?
Her family would beg to differ, but speech wasn't the only thing that made her an odd puzzle piece. It wasn't even the bullying that made her leave them before. Most of it came from her inability to face her problems head-on.
Was this time any different?
Absolutely not.
Was she at least happy?
Who can tell?
"You must be my favorite neighbor!"
Malcolm greeted her enthusiastically, extending muddy hands fresh from gardening-only to freeze when he noticed Amy's expression and pulled them back.
"So… that was weird," he said awkwardly. "Can I get a do-over? Help you with anything? Or at least smile so I don't die from embarrassment?"
Amy couldn't help it. She smiled. There was something disarming about a man blushing because of you.
"Hi. Call me Amy," she signed slowly, making sure he could follow.
He didn't. He got stuck at hello.
"Yeah, I deserve that," Malcolm said, scratching the back of his neck. "I'm Malcolm-the landlord."
Amy hated explaining her situation. That was why she hired Winnie in the first place. But as daunting as it felt, this man deserved an explanation.
She pulled out her notebook, scribbled, and handed it to him.
Glad to finally meet you, Malcolm. I'm Amy.
Malcolm exhaled in relief. "Thank you for not running to the hills."
That happens a lot? Amy scribbled with a snort as she followed him toward the elevator.
"Are you kidding me? Even gold diggers can't stand me." Clarified Malcolm with a laugh, "They say I'm too much"
"Well, I appreciate the enthusiasm," she added on paper, but I really hate shaking dirty hands.
"That's an easy fix," Malcolm said looking at his hands. Noticing their state. "You can wait in my apartment while I freshen up."
I just need the contract and my keys.
"And you'll get them, both. In my apartment."
You sound creepy.
"Or you could wait by my door?"
What about my things downstairs?
"Elijah and April can handle them."
They stepped out on the fifth floor- which one might assume was residential, except the entire building was an art school. And that floor housed the principal's office.
Where's my apartment?
"A suite upstairs," Malcolm replied, washing his hands. "You're going to love it. Do you like cats?"
Amy shook her head so hard she followed it with a bold, capitalized NO.
"Wow," Malcolm muttered. "And I'm allergic to them." He paused. "You can sell it if you want."
What about Elijah and April? Can't they help?
"You can ask them yourself."
His phone buzzed and before he could accept the call he gestured to the kitchen counter. "Room six. Sixth floor."
Amy picked up her keys and contract from the kitchen counter and left what felt like an office disguised as apartments.
The sixth floor stole the breath from her lungs.
It was heaven.
"I know, right?" April said proudly. "I'm April- the cleaning lady. And that doofus is my brother, the technical staff."
I'm Amy.
"I know! Huge fan of yours." April smiled, then added innocently, "So… why are you here?"
Amy's anxiety flared instantly.
When people tell you that you can't run from your shadow while chasing the light-believe them.