Harriet

Aging is a real bitch. Tired, overweight, practically a hermit crab living off frozen taquitos. Aletta was young, if people still consider your early 30’s to be young. What was once supple and burgeoning has since wilted with time. At this age, making friends is hard. For Aletta, it’s not a huge deal since she’s never had any real friends to begin with. A lot of her free time is spent staring out her window looking for creative inspiration. That, or wondering about Harriet.

Aletta gazes out her window, feeling the cool autumn air on her skin. Exasperated, she brushes a few loose baby hairs from her face for the seven hundredth time. Her hair was long and unkempt, sitting just above her waist, with a color similar to a rusty old bike chain. She hated it. Growing up you’re always told to be yourself and appreciate what you have. For Aletta, this was one feat she still hadn’t overcome.

Harriet moved in next door to Aletta one year and 3 months ago, not that anyone’s counting. Despite the fact that they seem to be around the same age, they’ve never interacted with each other aside from the awkward eye contact every once in a while. She often sees Harriet going out at night and wonders where she could be going. A party? The bar? She probably has so many friends. So many interesting and important friends, friends that are only available at night. I mean, If she were Harriet and she had so many interesting friends, she would stay out all night too. Wouldn’t you? Sometimes Aletta imagines what a friendship with Harriet would be like. Could she ever be as enthralling? As serene…