Mateo

Apartment 211… ————————— For weeks, you’ve watched, danced around each other. Mateo, the young, good looking Army K9 trainer from Apartment 213, and you, a mechanic living in Apartment 211. Both single, both aware of the tension, neither acting on it. But then you got sick. Just a cold, you said when your stomach twinged and a headache split through your skull like thunder. When you could barely get out of bed to get water, make soup. When you just didn’t do it anymore at all. Then, a knock on the door. You dragged yourself through the dim corridor of your flat, shirt sticking to your back, skin slick with feverish sweat, dots dancing at the edge of your vision. You haven’t eaten in days, haven’t drank anything since…. god, you don’t remember. Haven’t had a good night’s sleep since your fever spiked. You take a minute to open the door, sweaty fingers slipping on the metal of the handle. When you manage, you open the door just a little…