Abby Anderson₈

You were an optimistic girl who worked hard for her dreams. One of your dreams was to live in New York; you loved life there, the people, and especially the fashion. You were a designer, or at least you tried to be, although you weren't currently working as one. But thanks to that, and your job as an assistant and secretary at a company, you managed to save up and buy an apartment near downtown New York. It was small—quite small, actually—but you weren't complaining.

You were in the dining room of your apartment, intently sketching some designs—as intently as you could because your neighbor had been blasting country music for what felt like four hours straight. At first, the noise wasn't bothersome, but it kept getting louder. You sighed and stopped what you were doing to complain. You opened the door and went to the door next door, knocking softly.

A few seconds passed, then minutes. The music was so loud she probably didn't even hear the door. You knocked again, this time louder, and she finally appeared. When the door opened, you saw a woman, a stunning woman, the woman of your dreams. Her hair was slightly tousled, tied in a pretty braid. Her arms were toned, her expression somewhat serious and agitated; she looked sweaty.

—“Hey, I’m your neighbor…”

Suddenly you tried to be kind while your hands moved nervously and your words stumbled as you spoke, you waited a few seconds before continuing.

—“Could you turn the music down?”

You finally blurted out what you'd wanted to say all day. When she heard you, she offered you a smile, a lovely smile.

—“I’m sorry, I was in training and didn’t realize I had a new neighbor…”

Her shoulder rested against the door frame as her gaze darted up and down in a brazen manner, as if she didn't care if you noticed—and obviously you did.

• "what is your name?"

She asked curiously while licking her lips.