High Noon [H.S]

positive polly

It's not every Wednesday night that my mind is filled with thousands of murderous thoughts for my neighbour, but it's also not every Wednesday night that I mistaken the music-induced shaking of my flat for an earthquake.

I sat at my desk; notes strayed across the wooden table accentuated by bright highlighter and pen marks. My copy of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice lies in my lap as my eyes quickly scroll through the paragraph on the bottom of the page for the third time in a row. I really wanted to take a break; I was almost certain that if I hadn't stopped any time soon, my head was going to physically explode. An early promise saw myself being productive and finishing at least five chapters of my reading tonight, although, that didn't seem to be going very well. I had been stuck on the end of chapter three for the past 20 minutes.

My eyebrows furrow in annoyance as I try to read the words in front of me for the fourth time, but they don't carry any meaning. I couldn't concentrate; not with the thumping and melodies that obnoxiously blared and shook throughout the whole floor of the building. The tune of some Drake song echoed through the walls of my room, my mind pre-occupied with the lyrics instead of my book.

Seriously, what genius thought it would be a sound idea to have a party on a Wednesday night? I would've loved to be enlightened.

I groan, rubbing my face in frustration as I close the textbook shut forcefully, slamming it onto my desk. I hike my glasses up my nose before spinning around in my chair, about ready to murder whichever neighbour decided that it was okay to blast music on a school night.

I storm out of my room and into the communal area of the flat noticing Holland passed out on the couch, bowl of popcorn in hand and mouth wide open. I could faintly hear her soft snores accompanied by the dialogue of some rom-com movie playing on the TV, but with the even louder presence of the party down the hall it sounded like meagre whispers. She really could sleep through anything.

"Holland!" I bellow as I make my way to the kitchen to grab something quick to eat. I had ignored my stomach's obvious cries for food throughout my studying. I didn't know if it was because I really wanted to focus on my work or if it was the fact that in the back of my mind I secretly knew that pizza wouldn't really be an option, but even so, I couldn't disregard my stomach's requests any longer.

I settle for broccoli (the devil's vegetable) and hummus.

"M'up!" Holland mumbles from the couch, instantly shooting up and almost dropping the popcorn. She pats the sofa around her in search for something as she keeps her eyes closed. Her voice is still groggy with sleep. "Where am I?"

"Open your damn eyes, you git."

She opens one eye to look at me before opening the other and squinting. "Geez, what's up your arse?"

"Nothing is up my arse," I bite back.

I roll my eyes so hard that my vision goes white. Ripping open the lid to the hummus container, I throw it back onto the counter before dipping my broccoli into it with force.