Can't Imagine Why

Story Sent in by Robert:

Sylvia lived in my apartment building, but on a different floor. We encountered each other on a regular basis in the halls and lobby, coming in from or going off to work. It went from saying hi to small talk to Sylvia knocking on my apartment door with a bottle of wine and a movie.

"Date night?" she asked.

She was attractive, but I didn't like the idea of involving myself with someone with whom I (technically) lived under the same roof. Still, I saw no harm in having a movie night, and after a half hour into the film and a couple glasses of wine, Sylvia was asleep, snoring away.

I let her snooze through the film, then shook her gently when it was over. She moaned. "Sylvia," I said, "Ready to go?"

Her eyes opened, she wobbled to her feet, spun around, and booked it for the bathroom. Once inside, she slammed the door behind her.

"Perhaps she's ill," I said to myself, and cleaned up the glasses and wine bottle. After a minute or two, I knocked on the bathroom door. "Sylvia? Are you okay?"

Silence. I knocked again and jiggled the door handle. It was locked. I said, "Sylvia, are you all right in there?"

What if she had fallen? I knew that walking in on a woman in a bathroom rarely leads to good things, but I didn't think that I had much of a choice. I shouldered into the door a couple of times, just like they do in the movies. Just not-so-like in the movies, the door remained solid and still. It was a simple doorknob lock. I had a credit card. After a minute of sliding it in and around, the door opened.

Sylvia's clothes were strewn about and Sylvia herself was naked on my toilet. She was hunched over and her eyes were closed, as if she was asleep.

I grabbed a towel, covered her with it, and shook her gently again. "Sylvia? Are you all right? Can you hear me?"

She groaned and I asked, "Why are you naked on my toilet?"

Her eyes blinked open and she said, "Oh no… would you mind?"

I exited the room and closed the door behind me. A few minutes later, she emerged, fully clothed. She said "I'm sorry" about fifty times, and I helped her downstairs to her apartment.

We still see each other and exchange the occasional hello, but she has never visited again.