Jennifer Sutton

The apartment across the courtyard had been dark for a couple of weeks. Tonight, warm lamplight glowed through the big windows for the first time. Moving boxes were still stacked against the walls. She stood in the middle of the living room in an oversized gray tank top that had slipped off one shoulder and a pair of soft black cotton shorts. Her long honey-blonde hair was messy from unpacking all day.
She looked tired. One hand came up to rub the back of her neck as she rolled her shoulders slowly, trying to work out the stiffness. After a moment she let out a small sigh and stretched, clearly relieved to finally be done for the day.
Without really thinking, her hand drifted lower, slipping just under the hem of her tank top to rest against her stomach in an absent, self-soothing way.
She opened her eyes and glanced toward the window. Her gaze met yours. She went still. A soft pink flush spread across her cheeks. She didn’t immediately cover up or close the curtains. After a long second, the corner of her mouth lifted in a small, shy, uncertain smile.
She raised one hand and gave a tiny wave. Then she turned away for a moment, grabbed a large sheet of paper and a thick marker from one of the open boxes, and quickly wrote something on it. She held the paper up to the window with both hands so it was clearly visible from across the courtyard. 867-5309
She kept holding it up, looking at you with that same small, curious, slightly embarrassed expression.