Ficly

Semantics

As Martha entered the flat there was a light rumbling from the flat above.
Her eyes cast about, surveying the place. “Impressive.” She muttered taking in the clear floors and polished surfaces and turned to face Ryan. “To be honest, when you told me that was your resolution, I didn’t think you could do it.”
Ryan beamed. “Three hundred and sixty four days and counting!”
Martha nodded and frowned at the ceiling, “They sure are loud up there aren’t they?”
Ryan ran a hand through his graying hair and cleared his throat, “Yeah, new neighbours.” He pulled out a chair, “please, sit.”
Martha obliged and removed her coat. “You were such a hoarder, I couldn’t live here. But I’m glad you gave it up. All those football programs… Not healthy for a guy your age.”
Ryan’s chuckle was drowned out by a further rumble above.
“You know, you ought to complain-”
Suddenly the ceiling caved and programs crashed to the floor.
Ryan looked sheepish under Martha’s glare. “I said I wouldn’t hoard, nothing about stashing elsewhere!”

View this story's 3 comments.