Bah-bump-t-bump-bam. She typed against the rhythm of the ball, as it slapped the floor above her. The chiclet keys of her MacBook Pro shuddered while she whipped them with her fingers. Creakkkkk, Crrrh, Errr. The furniture skidded, and the ceiling whined for the third time that week. Her roommate and she didn’t understand why he rearranged his room, daily. Squeak-ah-squeak-ah-squeak. What she’d originally thought was a creaky door was a mattress shaking. The ball bounced again. She didn’t believe in God but wondered if this was what his wrath felt like. Her clammy hands were getting redder, as she slapped the keyboard, leaving each key moist and bothered.
Spotted in the dorm room below the basketball players’ double.