The Girl in the Downstairs Flat

hyde-hall-light

Keith drilled the hole in the ceiling when the pretty girl in the downstairs flat was out. Or at least he hadn’t heard her for hours, maybe days come to think of it. He was sure she wouldn’t notice the small mound of sawdust in her bathroom because even though she had kept the door-chain on when he had introduced himself, over her shoulder he had seen how messy her flat was.

Keith pressed his eye to the hole. The girl lay in her bath, smiling, looking up at him. He drew back, shocked, excited. When he looked again she hadn’t moved.

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This is a Friday Fictioneers story. 100 (or so) writers writing 100-words (or so) inspired by the picture above (supplied this week by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.

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Our Endless Numbered Days has been nominated for the Edinburgh First Book Award. This is a prize decided by public vote, so if you’d like to vote for my novel, click here – I’d really appreciate it. (Scroll to the bottom of the page, and I’m on the penultimate line.)