Uninvited Co-Star

Officer John Grant pushes open the door to his apartment. His face shows the frustration and tiredness caused by the last twelve hours. Sighing, he strolls over into the kitchen and opens the fridge. His eyes scan over the contents: one can of soda; two-week-old, half-eaten sandwich; one-day-old sandwich; and a bottle of milk. I need to go and do some shopping. He takes out the milk and the newest sandwich. Taking a sip of the milk, John looks at the clock. Four o'clock...That is enough time to clean this place and get some sleep. He starts up the stairs to change out of his uniform, but stops. What was that? He glances at the large closet next to the television that seems to have been where the faint noise had originated from. He listens for a while. It must be my imagination. Even though he already made up his mind, John still waits for a few more seconds before ascending the rest of the stairs.

After ten minutes, he is back to clean the apartment. How about a little music? John smiles at his bright idea and walks over to the radio to turn it on. Going into the kitchen, he takes the broom and returns to the living room. He opens the window to allow fresh air to come in before he starts to sweep in the one corner.

"Eighteen till I die. Gonna be eighteen till I die. It sure feels good to be alive. Someday I'm gonna be eighteen going on fifty-five!" He finally joins in with the song that has been blaring over the radio for a while now.

John pulls the sofa away with a grunt and sweeps behind it. Pushing the sofa back, he sweeps infront of it. He stops briefly and looks over at the closet standing next to the television again. He shakes of the strange feeling when the song ends and smiles as the next one comes on.

"So, I put my hands up. They're playin' my song. The butterfly fly away. Nodding my head like yeah." He starts before the artist even begins to sing.

He heads into the kitchen to get a bucket of water and a mop. Returning to the living room, he moves the sofa and the coffee table infront of the door, and starts in the same corner that he had started in with the broom. John mops the floor until he is infront of the radio. He straightens his back and stares blankly at the radio. Listening to the song, and to a voice that seems to have joined in softly, he decides to try and catch the owner of the voice by surprise. If it is not his imagination, of course. Hovering his hand over the skip button, he presses it quickly and listens closely, but the voice seemed to have stopped along with the song. Sighing and shaking his head at his own silly behavior, John skips a few more songs.

"Everybody! Yeah! Rock your body! Yeah! Everybody, rock your body right. Backstreets back, alright!" He presses the skip button.

The next song comes on and John dances around with the mop for a little while before continuing to scrub the floor.

"Heyyyyy! Macarena!" He sings along.

Throwing down the mop, John starts to dance the line dance of the song.

"Nah-NahNahNah-NahNahNah, Macarena. Nah-NahNahNah-NahNahNah, something something. Heyyyy! Macarena!"

He continues to perform the line dance, but worriedly glances at the closet from which a rather loud noise is coming. It is just my mind playing tricks again because it is tired. He smiles at his "reasonable" reasoning before frowning again. But why does it sound like someone is jumping around in there? Taking a deep breath, he tip-toes over to the closet and places his ear to the door. Yes, something is definately in this closet. He places a hand on each of the two handles and throws open the door. John gapes at the young boy who is busy dancing to the Macarena with his back to him. The boy jumps to the right and catches sight of the officer.

"Oh! H...Hey, Officer. Nice day to dance, right?" He smiles, but his wide eyes gives away his surprise.

"What are you doing in my house?!"

"Apartment."

"Do not correct me! You broke in, didn't you?" He glares.

The boy glances at John and then at the open window. Within a split second, he is past the police officer and out of the window with amazing acrobatic agility.

"COME BACK HERE!"

John can only watch as the boy disappears around the corner. He sighs. No use to try and catch him. I would first need to go to the gym for three years to up my running speed and endurance. I really should go and do that. Perhaps tomorrow. While thinking about a million excuses to not go to the gym, John walks over to the sofa and sits down. He stares out of the window before taking his notebook and pen to write down the characteristics of his newest acquaintance.

"Black hair...Deep blue eyes...Roughly seventeen...About as tall as me...Might be arrogant..." John stops writing and gazes thoughtfully out the window before looking back at his notebook again, "Singer...Dancer...Acrobat...Runner."

He throws the little book down with a smile. I hope, and have a feeling, that I will meet you again.