Her phone buzzed with a new text alert.
“Come outside and look at the moon.” The text was from her landlord who lived upstairs with his three kids. He was newly separated from his wife.
With slight hesitation, she left her couch to go peer at the moon. The evening news had said it would appear brighter and closer than usual. One of those types of occurrences that happened every x amount of years. She didn’t want to miss it, even though gazing at the moon with her landlord might give him the wrong impression.
Long before his surly wife had packed her bags and left, he had always flirted with her. Inappropriate comments, lingering glances that swept from head to toe and back up. He probably thought he had a chance with her. He was not shy about tracking her comings and goings or those of her rare guests. In over a year of renting the downstairs apartment, she’d never received gentlemen callers. Admittedly, the landlord was handsome, even with the huge gap between his two front teeth. He had an awesome physique, highlighted both when she saw him in his work suits or tank tops and sweats when putting out the trash for pick up the next morning. Still, no go. Too much baggage.
The second she opened the door of her ground level apartment, his voice greeted her. “Come sit with me on the stairs.”
“No, thank you. I’m fine.”
“Come on,” he said, dragging out the “n.” “I won’t bite.”
“No, thank you, I said,” irritation lacing her voice.
She looked up into the starless night sky. The moon was beautiful, luminescent. It looked like someone was shining one of those huge lights that professional photographers use at photoshoots. “I bet I can high five the man on the moon,” she thought.
She wished the landlord were somebody else, not necessarily a boyfriend, although that would be nice. Years from now she’d like to be able to say to a friend, significant other, just someone special in general, “Remember that night we stood in the moonlight?”