Thundering from up the stairs (short)

There was a thumping and booming coming from upstairs again. Thankfully, Emily wasn’t home to hear it yet But she was now at the gate, fumbling with her keys, two grocery bags that looked as though they were holding live lobsters, and an unseemly branch sticking out of a small black pot.
Emily lives on the first floor of a charming, two story building. Her flat sits behind the empty storefront that used to be wood paneled dojo. It’s still wood paneled – it’s just no longer full of white-robed children flailing in colorful belts. The large empty windows and red fa├žade of the building face out onto a bustling street. It houses most of the young-people’s restaurants in the city. A Thai restaurant, a few dingy but serviceable cafes, a dozen bard and an elegant place called Dorsia that likely serves its dishes in teaspoons and charges for water.
Each day, she get home from work around the same time. She was a pharmaceuticals salesperson. She had a boyfriend who’d come over and cook three or four nights a week, and he’d bring his dog, Otter. She wasn’t allowed dogs in her flat, and wasn’t sure she’d get one even if she was allowed.
Nearly every day, an hour after she gets home, a ruckus begins in the flat directly above hers. She’d bumped into the two young guys who lived upstairs. Only once each, on separate occasions. They seemed nice enough… Perhaps a little too grinny. But she couldn’t imagine what cause the rumbling. Well, okay, she could imagine. But it was perplexing.
“Just go upstairs and knock on their door,” Patrick had said, playing tug of war with Otter and his knot of blue and white rope. “If it’s been going on this long, it’s not gonna stop unless you go talk to them about it.” Emily looked away from the ceiling and down at Patrick and Otter.
“Well, it’s really not that annoying… I mean it’s loud, but it doesn’t bother me that much to be honest.”
The noise had been coming from upstairs for nearly two months. It was squeaking, like sneakers in a gym, and a loud stomping, and the occasional shout or loud gasp. She heard a loud slap every now and then as well… or maybe a clap she supposed.
Otter growled with triumph as Patrick finally let go of the rope.
“I mean, I think it’s just -” Patrick started.
“Stop, stop it.” Emily cut him off. “I know what you think. I mean go them, but I honestly don’t want to think about that – every night? And running around the whole apartment? I – don’t – get it. I don’t buy it.”
Just then, Patrick, Emily and Otter all looked up as an especially loud thud, slap, then muffled exuberant laughter emanated from above. Each of them wondered… each with a different thought their head.

Outside of Emily’s front door, through the hallway, up the stairs, around the corner and into apartment B. The two young men laughed loudly. They were both standing in the kitchen, the bright tungsten light flickering above them. They were wearing sneakers and basketball shorts, and one of them had just clapped loudly and cheered as they broke their hacky sack record.

The two boys often thought about how loud it must be for the girl in the apartment below them… but they figured that if she hadn’t come and knocked on their door yet, it must not be that much of an issue.
“Incredible, and kick was regal” one of them said, imitating the other’s backwards kick, arms sticking wildly up and to the sides. “One more to at least 15, yeah?”
He dropped the smile stripped hack sack, and the clatter started again.

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