Thursday Night

When I was apartment hunting I viewed one place that was cluttered with the previous tenant's stuff. Jessica Miller. One day she just left. No notice, no rent, no good-bye, and no moving out. The place was a complete mess. Despite the condition of the apartment I liked the unit and the location and now currently live there. (I was going to leave her anonymous, but her name is Jessica Miller. Chances are you know at least one or two anyway. Maybe she ran off with Ryan Johnson. Look her up on google for me and let me know what she looks like.)

I told you that story so I could tell you this one:

Thursday night I was lying in bed half awake because of my insomnia, and I heard a loud, pounding knock on my door. I glanced at the clock. 3:15am. I thought surely I must be hearing things, so I took no immediate action. Then I heard the knock again. I made my way out of bed, fumbled around to find my glasses and opened the front door. The guy asks, "Is Jess here?"I searched for some words and finally mumbled, "She took off." As I'm responding he points to my neighbor's and continues, "I must have the wrong apartment. Is it the next one?" Great idea. Why don't you just knock on everybody's door until you find her? I tried to clarify, but it was 3:00 in the morning.

"You have the right apartment; she took off."

"She's not home right now?"

"What's her last name?"

"Miller. Jess Miller."

"She hasn't lived her in several months. When was the last time you saw her?"

"I dunno, about six months ago. I'm really really sorry."

Seriously? Who does that? What if I was her boyfriend, and she waited in bed while I answerd the door? I would just respond, "Oh yeah. She's in bed; let me get her for you." Six months. You haven't talked to the girl in six months, so you choose 3:00am to drop by and say hi.

She went by "Jess." Good to know.