Neighbours

One day, one of my window blinds will fall to the ground with an earth-shattering crash.

I know this to be true. It is trying hard to stay up at the minute, but it is groaning and heaving so as to make its struggle clear. The blind of my neighbour has already fallen, and now lies crumpled and miserable on the ground.
I could talk to my neighbour about it and maybe he could help (or make it worse), but I don't talk to my neighbour at all about anything. I think I saw him once, and he gave me a look of what I interpreted to be hate because I was talking to someone who was probably his girlfriend. It's unfortunate, because I suspect he might be interesting. He plays loud spanish music and tapes that say, "Buenos Dias……. Guten Tag" and things like that for a long time, so I presume him to be fluent in one of those languages and quite bad at the other.

More than that, I think he is trying to grow a rock. There is a little broken-looking plastic thing outside his room which collects moisture for the thing inside it. But the only thing I can see inside is a rock. It's a pretty big rock, I suppose, so I guess it might be working. But it's still a rock.

I have also seen my neighbour on the other side throw tomatoes at dogs. I would like to talk to her about that some day too, but the opportunity has not arisen.

Both of them allow me to hear their Bon Jovi CDs, even when I don't really want to.


These things aren't really stories, are they? I just don't know what I'm supposed to write.