truth

An angry pounding sounded on the door.

Janice sighed. Not again she thought.

Reluctantly she went to the door and opened it.

Piercing blue eyes stared at her from the other side of the door. The eyes were enclosed in a tiny puckered face. Tiny lines covered the face like the cracks on the ground during a scorching day. The lines left the face with a look of continuing agitation, of which it seemed to be experiencing a lot of at the moment.

“Excuse me,” screeched the woman. “Are you aware how much noise you are making? I can’t get a thing done with all the racket you are making.”

“Mrs. Carmine, I don’t know what racket you are talking about. I have the stereo and the television turned on and that’s it,” replied Janice.

“Well its best you keep it down,” snipped Mrs. Carmine. “And I would also appreciate it if you kept your car closer to your own side of the apartment and your flowers on your specified side of the garden. I would hate to have to go to the landlord about this.”

“Well maybe you should keep yourself closer to your apartment,” replied Janice as she slammed the door in Mrs. Carmine’s face. She then bolted the door and cranked up the stereo in an attempt to drown out the insistent pounding at the door.

“Oh just Mrs. Carmine again. That woman has got some nerve. All she does is complain, complain, complain. This woman is driving me up the wall,” Janice replied.