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February 6, 2011
Spread-eagle on the floor, my ear pressed to the carpet, I pretend I can hear the thoughts of my downstairs neighbor floating up from her head. I caught a glimpse of her living room once--she left her curtains open one night, and as I walked by I spotted a zebra print couch and lion paintings on the wall. Everything was neat and tidy and not at all lonely.

I think I would like her.

We've never talked. I've never talked to any neighbors. But she's my favorite. Maybe she'd like me too?

I am a bit creepy sometimes.