The Apartment Across the Way -- Part One

As is usual, unemployment has given me more time to spend writing. Over the next few days I will be publishing a short story in parts. Below is part one. I would love feedback. Who knows, your view might change the course of the story. Enjoy.

The Apartment Across the Way

Part One

There was an apartment across the way, as is common in a large city. Hamilton had never been in the building. He had always assumed that its design mirrored his own. He lived on the second floor, but the apartment in question was on the fourth. The buildings were identical, boring six story blocks, standing no more than thirty yards apart. They were the only identical buildings on the block. The apartment in question was never of great interest to anyone, least of all Hamilton. He had never seen anyone in it before, despite his daily musings over his window sill. Hamilton had moved into his one bedroom apartment twelve years ago. In this time he had never seen so much as a shadow or flicker of life from the apartment across the way.

It was an average Thursday night in mid-February. Two inches of snow remained on the ground from the previous week, while a light dusting was falling from the sky. The temperature had been holding in the naughts for three weeks. A chill permeated the windows, finally forcing Hamilton to relent, and turn on his radiator. He sat huddled at the end of his leather couch, right next to the radiator, flipping through channels, looking for something to capture his attention. He settled on a basketball game and grabbed a beer from the fridge before sitting back and falling into his basketball induced trance.

Two minutes into the third quarter, Hamilton was jarred from his concentration. He looked around, startled, just like someone awoken from deep sleep by a loud noise. He peered out the window and noticed a light in the center-right window in the fourth floor apartment, across the way. It vanished as soon as he looked, but reappeared instantly, flicking on and off. It appeared to jump erratically. Hamilton could not stop staring at the light. It jumped and danced from side to side and top to bottom. Every few moments it disappeared, only to reappear and continue its movements. Hamilton stared for a few moments and turned back to the television.

Must be someone with a flashlight.

Thirty seconds remained in the fourth quarter. Hamilton rubbed his eyes. Almost an hour of basketball had elapsed in what seemed like a moment of staring at the light. He stood up and paced to the other side of the apartment, then returned to the window. He looked up at the apartment across the way. The light was gone. He waited a few moments for it to reappear, but darkness permeated the space. Confused and somewhat startled, he turned back to the game, just in time to see the team he had put a few bucks on in the office pool miss a last second shot and lose the game.

 
              Damn.

                He flicked off the television with a disgusted slap at the power button, doused and the lights, and hopped into bed. For thirty minutes he lay awake pondering the strange light and odd passage of time. He set his alarm clock, and, dismissing the light from his mind with a resigned sigh, fell asleep. 

Part Two to come tomorrow.