Page 118 of Sweeper

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I jump out of my bed and stalk over to the thin sheetrock in my living room. I raise my fist to pound on the wall when her voice reverberates into my space, causing me to pause.

It’s the tune of “Hey There Delilah,” but she’s changed the lyrics into something I’ve never heard before.

Hey, hiya there neighbor

When you moved in next door to me

You seemed a pretty mystery

But instead, you brought some history

In your bags.

I should have assumed a big snag

There always is.

Hey, hiya there neighbor

You’re painfully awfully noisy

Don’t you ever hear your alarm clock ring

Surely you know that it annoys me

Just wake up.

Or I might just blow up.

Like I do.

But then, you read Bridget Jones.

And I was cursed.

By your smile.

But then, you read Bridget Jones.

And I was cursed.

By your eyes.

Hey, hiya there neighbor

Turns out your noises don’t bother me

Because your kiss has freed me

From an awful past history

That was a drag.

How did you know just how to act?

To bring me back?

Hey, hiya there neighbor

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