My back tensed. I heard the sound of a car driving up and the thud of the car door as some faceless interloper emerged. I held my breath, dreading to hear the clumsy clumping up the stairs that would announce the un-welcomed company before reaching the door.
It was always a clumping too; as if they wore boots that were five sizes too big whenever they came in order to instill some kind of low-budget horror movie suspense into my already edgy response to their coming. After a few rigid moments, I heard the sound of the car door again, and then the car drove harmlessly away. It had obviously been a delivery to the people across the street. The neighbors are much too close, I thought for the thousandth time that week.
Just because this last car was not a danger did not mean that I should let my guard down completely; I took this opportunity to go lock the deadbolt. Sometimes they would just walk straight in as if they had every right in the world to open my front door. Maybe by their rules they did, but I would never become accustomed to it.
I remembered a time and place where people would knock at the door, and wait for you to answer it.
I took an open-mouthed chug of my drink, catching an ice cube. Concentrating on the cold on the roof of my mouth and the grinding of the cube against my teeth enabled me to remove herself mentally from the seemingly ever-present doom of my current situation.
If I hear the phone ring, I feel on the inside like the aliens from Sesame Street - BBBRRRIIIINNNGGG!!!! AAAAAGGGGHHHHH!!!! TELEPHONE, TELEPHONE!!!! BBBRRRRRRRRRRIIIIIINNNNNGGGGG!!!!! My hackles rise and I say a silent prayer. The prayer begins with hoping that it is nothing more than bill collectors, and ends with me being thankful for answering machines.