Abby flopped onto her side in bed and pushed out a frustrated sigh. Between the nerves about tomorrow’s presentation and Arnold and Miriam’s clomping footsteps in the condo unit above, her hope for a good night’s sleep faded.
“Why wood floors?” The silent response stirred her melancholy. Another experience she didn’t share with Mark.
Something scraped across her ceiling from right to left. More clunks, followed by muffled voices and another object sliding. She wondered what they were doing up there. She wished the units had thicker walls and more insulation.
The dawning came.
“No! It’s Wednesday night,” she groaned. Abby scrambled under her covers and pressed both pillows over her head. She knew she didn’t have much time.
What started as a light rumble grew into a thunder of wheels that vibrated across her ceiling. When the roar ended, she threw her covers back. The pull chain on her ceiling fan clanked against the glass light fixtures. She knew they had just moved their sectional sofa out of the living room. They would need the extra space.
More footsteps thumped and then she heard laughter. Their friends arrived. Abby knew what was next. Three, two, one… she counted off in her head.
Latin music blared. Right on time.
Ever since Arnold’s retirement last year, the first Wednesday of the month meant one thing: salsa dancing night.
She couldn’t complain about the noise, though. Abby remembered how the couple had brought a tray of cookies down and asked, “Do you mind if we have some friends over for salsa on the first Wednesday night of each month?”
It would be too embarrassing to admit she thought they meant chips and salsa.
In honor of Cinco De Mayo (whis is a big deal in AZ), I decided to write one more Trifecta entry. Last night, I read the other Trifecta stories. Lots of really good ones! Since many stories also incoporated rain and storms into them, I wanted to challenge myself to write a story without the help of a rainstorm.
thun·der noun \ˈthən-dər\ – bang, rumble <the thunder of big guns>