In front of him, for nearly every minute he was awake, there was a screen.He tried to recall a time when it wasn't this way. He couldn't, so he watched old movies to try to remember."Yeah, but this ... [+]
A Pushcart Prize nominee, Kurt Bachard is a widely published writer from South London, UK. His fiction has been published by Dell (in Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine), Claren Books, Comet press, Flametree books, among many others. "Busy Bodies" is on Short Circuit #01, Short Édition's quarterly review.
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It was a wonder the neighbors didn't complain. And I know it's irrational, maybe even paranoid, but I imagined the old guy upstairs must have heard me crying lately and was mocking my bereavement. Every night as I lay awake staring at the dark ceiling, wrapped in my cocoon of misery, I heard him laughing in the apartment directly above until dawn. But I mean really laughing, guffawing like a mad man. No loud music, no banging, no mumbling TV or radio, just this old guy laughing all alone, all night long."What's so damn funny?" I yelled up at the ceiling one night. I gave up trying to sleep and