RANDOM PROMPTS I THINK OF AT NIGHT

Must Have Been The Wind

Just when the night sky looked so crisp amongst the city's bright skyline, it echoes.

His head whips back, his eyes also glaring back to his shelves. Each second of his panicked glance makes his sunset eyes glisten under the moonlight. It was only to his fortune that the sound of shattering was not from his unit, nor did it come from his precious vases.

The striking sound of the shattering ceramic vase was from the apartment unit above him.

For a time of ten o' clock in the evening, it wasn't for this perfectionist to ponder why something shattered to the ground, as if it was on purpose.

He just wanted his sleep. Though Kimmel's curiosity gets the best of him.

Almost all goes numb suddenly. Closing his eyes, he feels almost every pulse. Every single current runs through his senses, as if each electrical wire sends a chill up his back.

The five words chant over his head. It seemed like an involuntary skill for him to peek through the wires and cables of the entire apartment, like he's the center of the system, like he actually was a part of it all. Surveillance cameras were as if visions to him, speakers were like his ears.

Cries resonate to his senses, and the weeping voice calls his eyes to blink open.

It didn't take long for him to worry, though such was never really his nature, especially for an emotion to be for a next-floor neighbor.

Damn tea for the first time, he's too worried to be sleeping.

Kimmel Caser can't sleep with innocent wailing noises.

.

He doesn't bother making himself tidy, nor changing his clothes, nor even taking the stairs. It's too late for him to stress his body. Besides, all he just wanted to do was console the woman, then hopefully nothing more.

It's not him to exactly intrude, especially when knowing very little of others' lives. Just get this over with, he wanted to mutter. I have no idea what to say but maybe it will just come out of my mouth, he also told himself.

Knocking on her door, however, was a slip. Goodness knows he didn't plan that.

Kimmel Caser, there was a doorbell.

The door opens right with him fidgeting with his feet awkwardly. At the creak of the door, his eyes look to her. His hair was unkempt, though her wasn't that different either. Compared to Kimmel's orange locks, hers were purple, long on one side, short on the other. Neither were her eyes of the same color, one green and one in deep, clear violet. He wasn't the type to analyze people in the middle of the night. But it shows. Her legs tremble, cold and weak, unlike her warm and fuzzy sweater.

Like every inch of her stood as north and south, east and west, only one thing remained the same for her.

The girl tries to hide it, her chin lowers to the collar of her sweater. Holding her breath, she also tries holding tears. She doesn't smile outside and cry inside.

"You...okay, miss? I heard  a vase-" If one thing was a lie, it was his call. He didn't mean, "miss." Of course he knew her name. Liezel. He's read her name from the computer logbook documents.

Not that he meant to do that, obviously.

Liezel's voice is merely a croak. A bare breath escaping her lips. "I...I think your ears are playing tricks on you, sir," she mutters in between sniffs. She's a decent secret-keeper, just not to Kimmel.

Never can anyone lie in front of Kimmel, honestly.

It was perhaps a mistake for her to speak. Especially with Kimmel just asking her about a vase. Her voice cracks again. "Thanks for caring, sir. That's...quite nice of you...I...just need to get back in."