Magic of Moonlight

The cool night air swept over him like a blanket, enveloping him in a comfort he did not often get to experience. He was so busy, always working a job that he didn’t want to secure things he didn’t have. Usually he didn’t mind, the constant call of work dulling his mind into a haze, a robotic trance which would begin shortly after he arrived, where he’d then zone out for a few hours, and go home, leaving mountains of completed paperwork neatly stacked on his desk. He didn’t take pride in his work, instead drifting through the past few years, waiting for the inevitable promotion, and the chance for something more. He lived a quiet life, perhaps an unfulfilling one, but one where he felt content with. His ambitions had long since faded away, replaced with the monotony of the office which took over his being. He wasn’t happy, but he wasn’t sad either, and so he supposed that did for the time being. It was imperfect, but it was a life he had worked hard to craft, the pieces meticulously organized in the style of a well oiled machine. Unfortunately for him, when something is so intricately made, so thoughtfully designed, all it took was one stroke of misfortune to shatter it completely.

His boring stupor that he called life crumbled around him in one fell swoop, his carefully tended existence threatened by the utter randomness of the universe. One day he was working like any other, if perhaps a bit concerned by recent news reports, the next he was locked in his home, commanded to only leave for the essentials. If it didn’t concern food or water, there was no way he was getting out. At first he was distraught, how could he exist without the very fabric of his being, the work he hated and yet which owned him? The first three days of quarantine, he did not leave his bed once, feeling sickly. His skin was waxy and pale, and he would sweat bullets the moment his thoughts began to wander from doing anything but just sitting there. He was overwhelmed, unable to feel anything. And then on the third night, minutes after midnight, he had an epiphany. For the first time since college, he felt a spark within him, a desire to do something, to put work past him, to live passionately. Unfortunately, he had no idea where to start. He figured he’d ought to be productive, to finally work off that flab that had been building since last Thanksgiving, to learn to cook properly, years after his mother had tried to force some knowledge into him, to read and write, and to expand his horizons. But at the same time, he also wanted to relax, to forget productivity, to lounge around, to finally hook up that Playstation he had bought impulsively a few months ago, to catch up on the shows his friends had recommended thousands of times. At that thought, he jumped: he hadn’t talked to his friends in months! Maybe this was the time to reconnect? These ideas swirled around in his mind, filling him with equal parts drive and fear. He suddenly collapsed, crestfallen, not having the slightest idea where to begin. Contradictory feelings welled up in his heart, forcing him to stop, and breathe. That’s when he had the idea of going to his scarcely used balcony, to sit and gaze at the moon while he thought. 

He opened the door with a rusty squeak, and threw himself into one of his lawn chairs, letting the cool air ease his troubled mind. He closed his eyes, and began to hum a song his mother had sang to him many years ago. Slowly calming down, he allowed his hum to become words, singing softly under the pale moonlight. He lost himself in the soothing lyrics, remembering a much kinder time in his life. When he finished his song, he was so engrossed in his feelings that he failed to notice the sound of faint applause.

“That was beautiful”, came a soft voice from the darkness, shocking him awake. “If I’d known you could sing like that, I might’ve put away my speakers now and then”

“Who’s there?”, he asked, feeling mortified. 

“Me”, replied the mystery voice, a hint of a smile in her tone. A giggle escaped her lips, furthering his embarrassment. He turned to the source of the voice, and was startled to see the figure of a woman leaning on the rail of the balcony next to his. He had never met his next door neighbor, but he knew she was there all the same. Thin walls did a terrible job of providing privacy, and he had heard what felt like thousands of concerts vibrating into his apartment. He never complained; however, as he didn’t particularly have the confidence to go around yelling at strangers, even if they were at fault. He didn’t know her name, and she never seemed to leave her apartment, though he had seen a few delivery men leave things at her door from time to time. Despite this, all he really knew about her was that she was a fan of Green Day, and that she was around his age. He peered at her curiously, waiting for her to make the next move. Seeing that he didn’t seem to be furthering the conversation, she took pity on him and kept talking.

“Alrighty then, it looks like I’ll be leading tonight’s dance. I’m Charlotte, I live next to you, and I don’t think I’ve ever got your name?” she said, posing the last phrase as a question. Happy with being thrown a lifeline, he began to speak, his deep voice a stark contrast to his soft singing. 

“I’m Rob, and uh, I live next to you too, I guess”, he stammered, not quite knowing how to talk to her yet. The darkness obscured her face, and he felt uncomfortable talking into the night. Breaking the silence felt like he was trying to cut through a tree with his bare hands, such was his awkwardness, and for the life of him, his sleepiness wasn’t helping matters.

“So uh, Charlotte, what’ve you been getting up to since quarantine started?”, he asked, hoping to either take the conversation somewhere or to let it die quickly.

“Oh, well I’ve been baking mostly, but I’ve also been writing a lot too. I’m trying to get published one of these days, maybe this will inspire me”

“That’s crazy, I’m a writer too!”, he replied, excited by the new found common ground.

“I’ve been trying to get started, but the past few days have been rough for me”, he added.

“I’m sorry to hear that”, she replied. Suddenly, as if struck by lightning, she sprang out her chair, dashing inside, leaving Rob to wonder if he had said something wrong. His wondering was short lived, luckily for him, as she burst back outside, brandishing something in her hands. She shifted her position, looking like she was trying to pitch a baseball, causing his confusion to return.

“What is she doing?” he thought to himself.

His thinking was abruptly interrupted when she threw the object in her hands, hitting him square in the face. She began to apologize profusely, murmuring several variations of ‘I’m sorry” in quick succession, but the effect was ruined by her laughter pervading her words. Finally she gestured for him to look at what she had thrown, which had landed on the table. He gasped as he saw a bundle of lightly damaged cookies, carefully wrapped in a silvery bag. He moved to thank her but she stopped him, her infectiously cheerful voice causing him to freeze.

“Don’t go thanking me, I just baked too many cookies for myself is all. If you don’t mind, I’m gonna go to bed now though, but we can talk in the morning if you want.” she paused for a moment, before adding “I’ll be here, it’s not like I have anywhere else to go”. His nod went unseen, as she rushed back inside, leaving him alone in the night once more.

“See you then”, he whispered, turning to inside. He jumped into a freezing shower, and stood there smiling as the water washed over him. He had a good feeling about the morning to come.

Rob slept soundly for what felt like the first time since he had started working, awakening feeling rested. He was still unsure of himself, but he felt eager nonetheless. After getting dressed, he took his coffee to the balcony, and turned over to Charlotte’s balcony. The sight that met him caused his jaw to drop. Replacing the shadowy figure he had barely managed to make out in the darkness was a woman who seemed to radiate positivity. Her lightly tanned skin glowed in the early morning sun, and her shoulder length black hair gleamed as the light hit her. In short, she was beautiful, but as he looked closer, he started to see the cracks in the image. Her hair was frizzled, having just come out of bed, and the bags under her eyes brought her back down to Earth. In a way though, this made Rob feel relieved, flaws made her seem more approachable. He caught her eye, and smiled, giving a shy greeting. She smiled back, and they began to chat, awkwardly at first, but as the minutes gave way to hours it seemed to become more natural.

This continued for several weeks, where each day they were drawn more and more to each other. Rob looked forward to his talks with Charlotte whenever they weren’t together, and Charlotte made a habit of throwing things over to his balcony whenever she wanted to see him, which became more and more common. Rob didn’t know if he truly liked her, or if he was desperate for company, but being with her seemed to ground him, keeping him from being overwhelmed. He grew to recognize all her little quirks, becoming familiar with her in a way he had never quite known with anyone else. Despite strictly keeping to their balconies, they felt connected in a way that was beyond the physical sense. He told her of his hatred of his work, of his secret passion for anime, and of things as serious as the sadness he had felt since his mother had passed which drove him into disregarding the surrounding world. She told him of her anxieties, of her fears, of her preference for slasher films over supernatural horror, of all the little details that made her her. Finally, four months after the quarantine began, they were alerted that it was safe to leave their homes. 

Ironically, this good news scared them a bit. They had formed such a strong bond, they had become each other’s daily routine, not a day went by where they didn’t pour their hearts out for hours on those little balconies. But they were worried that their lives would resume, and they’d gradually fall out of their relationship. For three days both locked themselves away, not speaking to the other, and for three days their worry intensified. But funnily enough, at an hour much like the one they first met, they both drew themselves out of their beds, and made their way to their doors. Almost totally in sync, they opened their doors to the apartment hallway, determined to knock on the other’s door, instead startling each other in the space between their apartments. Tears flowing freely from both, they ran and embraced each other, an unspoken declaration of love.

Shortly afterwards Rob quit his job, and decided to pursue his passion as a comic-book writer. He and Charlotte left their apartments, and their balconies behind, as they moved in together at the much larger apartment across the street from their building. The apartment had one big terrace, which towered over their smaller balconies from before. Two young adults, starved of any desire for life, found a purpose in each other, which allowed them to better themselves.