It was dusk on a Saturday and I swept up the debris and paper in the dinning room floor. The last bit of the Sun was in the top of the window: blue and red. I stopped and looked around the apartment, at all the floor stains and the broken window and torn blinds.
"This place is finally letting me leave," I thought.
I picked up a full garbage bag and started to drag it to the front door. I heard Mr. Harkins lock unlatch in apartment 1.
I watched as his door opened and he was looking down as he shuffled across the threshold. He looked up and smiled.
"I am sure going to miss you, Brad" said Mr. Harkins standing there in his soiled t-shirt, suspenders, old slacks and bare feet. His toe nails were hideous.
"Yeah me too, you have been a great friend, Mr H." I said and smiled.
"How long did you live here again, six or seven years?"
"I would have lived here seven years in July." I responded.
"I am sorry that harlot's boyfriend beat you up, and you were the one who ended up going to jail."
"It's ok. I'm glad it happened. I wasn't tending those plants Mr. H, they were tending me. My life is a thousand times better."
He gave me a look like a father proudly looks at his son.
We stood in 72 North Belvedere's apartment building hallway with the dark hardwood floors and the huge wooden stair case leading to the top apartments.
A siren started and we heard thunder in the distance.
"You ever think about dying Mr Harkins?"
"I think about going to Heaven and eating pork and beans with Saint Peter if that's thinking about dying."
"Yeah, I am sure glad to be alive."
"Me too, Brad."
"You wanna goto Huey's and eat, and then see my new place on Central, Mr Harkins?"
"Oh Lord, Brad," he put his hand on the wall and breathed hard.
It scared me, "what's wrong?"
