The Man Who Lived Upstairs

It was silent. Umma wouldn't be back unless Nani offered to let her go and Baba needed the day off from all the stress, with a rock party at the resort kilometres away. Jeff took the bike and left for some random storage house, where he could spend his time sexting his thirty first girlfriend, while I remained stuck inside the walls of a house. Alone, but definitely not lonely. The minute the engine's roar died down the sidewalk, I shut the door and locked it. My heart started to race for different reasons. May it be the silent familiar walls of the house, or the way my stupid butt walked upstaira. Hope glimmered in my eyes, on hearing books falling on the floor. I took each step, a strange sensation walking into my heart. I needed to see for myself, whether the noise was a joke or if someone was there. Someone nobody knew about. Someone who wasn't family, nor a stranger. Someone who had taken his stay without a rent. Someone nobody knew about. Umma, Baba, or Jeff. I reached for the door and pushed it open. He sat there on the floor, a book on geography widespread on his hands. My racing heart would have escaped its chambers and fell on the floor, like the books he were rumbling through. Dark eyebrows, unshaved stubble and moustache, a rugged appearance of a beggar yet handsome. Decietful dacoit; I could write a story on just how he looked. In the same blue Tee that would start to stink by tomorrow and cargo pants, he sat cross legged, not acknowledging my presence. He was searching for something. I couldn't talk. My throat bobbed. Sweat leaked from my temples, like my tears. "Sit" Gruff and authoritative. As if I was trespassing his house. "I need your name" He looked up at me. "Laayak"