So there’s an old woman living in an apartment on my floor. “Judith.” Judith is like 5′ tall, nice woman, looks about 72, kind of airy.
Judith hates how long it takes for the elevator to arrive. You know how I know? Because I can HEAR HER WAILING IN THE HALLWAY.
It’s just this high pitched wailing. “Oooooohhhooooooohhhhooooooohhhhh.” Sometimes it’s accompanied by some words like “Come on! Come on!” as she taps the elevator button.
Last week I was in the hallway and heard her wailing from her apartment. This time it was accompanied by “GOD DAMMIT! GOD DAMMIT!”
I was about to knock on her door to see of she was ok, then I remembered that she has a flair for the dramatic and realized that she could have just run out of dishwashing soap. I decided against knocking. Don’t want to embarrass her.
Then this past Saturday I heard the wailing loudly. From OUTSIDE. There’s a courtyard as you enter the building and my apt looks into it so anything said is amplified.
And when she got to my floor she just went on and on, louder then I’ve ever heard. Despair escaping from her lips.
So I opened the door “Judith what’s going on?” She lost her wallet.
Ok she got me there. Definitely something to be angry about. And who knows what else she’s going through. Bad times hit us all but rarely do I hear such verbal woe. It’s like she’s barely holding on and can fly off at any moment.