Her Name Is Havoc

Five months ago

"What do you think?" I said zealously.
"Is that what you were insisting I come see?"
"What? You don't like it? I mean I thought I had a taste in furniture and interior design."
"It's okay. But you were insisting badly I come see your house. I thought you would show me a palace or something. I mean the flat is cool and everything but you are more obsessed about it than you should be. Wait. I think I know why. Maybe because it's new. Like you moved here like a couple of days ago. Maybe that's why."
"What? No. Why would I?" I swear she reads minds and sees right through lies.
"C'mon Richard, I can smell the paint. It's freshly baked. And the furniture looks like you just unwrapped it," and then she leaned towards me and whispered, "I can smell the novelty."
   With this I blushed. What? I blushed! I didn't even know I was capable of that.
"The question is, Richard," she takes a seat, "why did you just move in the building right in front of mine? Are you a stalker? A creep? Or just too desperate? Or maybe all of the above," and she crossed her legs.
    It's too intense I think I might evaporate. Silence. Awkward silence. Then she clears her throat and laughs a bit too naturally than this weird situation would require. I am confused, and I am happy.
"Maybe you would've liked my other house. It's bigger. A lot bigger. And more like me. Maybe we could see it another time. If you don't mind, of course," I say, and I have no idea how I managed to. I should be dead out of humiliation by now. But I still persist. She's right. I am too desperate. A too desperate, weird stalker who thinks he might be in love.
"So you've got a nerve. I like that," and she smiled, "but I never said I liked bigger houses. That's the thing about men. They all believe we're digging their wallets. Poor guys. Very insecure."
"I never meant that. I just thought... well you said you expected a palace... I though you would like a bigger place. Like it would impress you..." and I am babbling with complete bullshit. I am surprised she's not gone by now. I was never a big, foul mouth. What's happening to me for god's sake?!
     She just looks at me with a mild smile. Like she's already inside my head and she knows what's in it. It's creepy and awesome. Like I don't even need to speak my mind because she's pretty much in it. Now she looks expectantly. She seems to be waiting for a more fluent explanation. But I know she doesn't need one. But she wants one. Is that a test? I wonder if she's just messing with me on purpose.
"Okay. I am sorry. I didn't mean that you're materialistic or something. I didn't also mean mentioning my big house as a way to brag. I was just talking. I was trying to make a convo here." I said, a bit more frustrated than I should be.
    She raised an eyebrow and smiled a single-sided smile.
"That's all you've got to say?" she asked, in a way so annoying that I would've kicked her out of my house if she was anyone else. What's interesting is that I didn't really mind the way. She's still welcome. To say anything. All the time.
"And I am sorry I lied. I did buy this flat recently. I moved in here so I would get more of an opportunity to encounter you. I was just impulsive I guess. I promise I am not a stalker."
    She smiled. This time genuinely.
"Okay."
"Okay."
"Do you have cheese?"
"What?" that took me off guard.
"Cheese? The one we eat. Do you know food?"
"Yeah. I think I've got some. I've got some cheddar cheese and feta I guess."
"Oh. I love cheddar. Can you make me a sandwich?"
"Yeah! Sure. Give me a second."
    I rushed to the kitchen. She loves cheddar. I think I love cheddar. Maybe I didn't. But now I surely do.
     I came back to the room and she was gone. Vanished. Like she was never there. She must be a ghost. No. An angel. She must've been an angel.
"Hazel."
   No answer.
"Hazel! Where are you?" 
   Nope.
   Then I spotted it. A paper where she was seated. I unfolded it and read the words, half disappointed and a half intrigued. Both halves in love.

   Dear Richard,
   You're such a sloth. It took you forever to make me a damn sandwich. I suddenly got bored and decided to leave. I will find you when I want to. Don't call me or you will kill the fun.
P.S. Don't eat my sandwich. I will come for it later.
                                                         Yours sincerely,
                                                             Ms. Cheese
      God. I love cheese.