[ WP ] You are home alone one night humming to yourself when you hear someone humming along in another room .

2 AM. Way past my bedtime. But it's hard to say no sometimes. 
 
 I sat at my computer desk in silence, reading news articles about the election. More of the same shit. Trump did something stupid. Hillary did something corrupt. Someone pissing and moaning about how one side is stupid and how the other side is the future. 
 
 The low hum of my computer fan whirred and my vision even blurred as I nodded off a little, in that strange spot between waking life and dreams you ca n't quite put your finger on when you're in it. Just a haze, really. 
 
 `` Trump did this and that, blah blah blah, you're a loser Jimmy. Yeah, you. Jimmy. You're a loser. Home alone on a Friday night? Your bare walled two bedroom apartment might as well be your grave. A tomb, really. You know that's it.'' 
 
 I snapped out of my haze. My subconscious was as cruel as always. I reread the paragraph and found it much more benign this time. Something about Trump texting late at night. It did n't matter. 
 
 I brushed my hair eye of my eyes, to the side. It felt a little greasy, but with work over two days away, and with no company coming, it never even crossed my mind to take a shower. 
 
 So I scrolled. I scrolled and scrolled and read and fought against sleep as I always have, like there's something there I do n't want to face, like processing the mundane mediocrity of my life would bring me one step closer to jumping off a bridge once everything was compacted and compiled. Maybe if I mashed enough information in there, maybe that would dilute the emptiness. 
 
 There was an old tune that suddenly struck me. A melody I could n't put my finger on right away. It was catchy, something I ought to know, but I could n't place it. 
 
 I murmured the first three notes aloud, almost startling myself at the rasp of my own voice. I suppose it should n't have been any surprise. I had n't spoken in hours, let alone hummed or sang. But the notes, they sounded right. 
 
 Thinking back, it was from the Blue Resort level from Bomberman 64. Yeah. Pretty obscure. But catchy, nonetheless. So I hummed it and bobbed my head as I did, a flood of nostalgia about a pretty average game that maybe a hand full of people played. But it was nice. It served as a good distraction when mom and dad used to fight. Served as a good distraction when everyone else would go out to play, and I would stay in. As good as any. 
 
 So I hummed it, and hummed it. It stuck in my head. I had to hum it, even after I got sick of it and did n't want to anymore. I just kept doing it like some sick addiction. That's intrusive thoughts for you. 
 
 After maybe an hour or so passed of my intermittent humming, something stopped me in the middle of the melody. Someone else. 
 
 Now to be clear. I live in an apartment. I have neighbors, but I happen to know the Johnson's are out of town, and they do n't have a cat or critter to take care of, so I knew sure as shit nobody was there. On the other end was an elderly woman who could only hear about as far as she could see, which was just enough to see her tiny, 70s TV with the dial you turn through static, and I could hear the faint blast through the walls of that. No way it was her. 
 
 I turned in my chair and surveyed my own room like it was enemy territory. Per usual, there were mounds of dirty clothing, empty cans, and slightly tarry walls from when I took up smoking. There goes my security deposit. 
 
 Nothing unusual. 
 
 I picked myself up from my chair and hummed again. A warm voice called from the living room, continuing the tune for me. I shivered. 
 
 At the back of mind I was beating myself up for not being more of a gun nut. This was exactly the sort of situation you wanted to have a loaded shotgun at your bedside, even if you were normally more likely to blow away your loved ones with it. 
 
 Sure, I do n't have any loved ones, but call me optimistic. Okay... do n't call me that. Call me naive. 
 
 I instead grabbed my much treasured Frostmourne from back when I was really into Warcraft 3. I wished with all my might I could muster the power of the Lich King to vanquish whatever the hell was humming with me, minus the whole losing my soul part, assuming souls are real. 
 
 But... I do n't know. Retrospectively I was pensive to appear violent to anyone else that would know that tune. I mean, how likely would it be that a burglar would come into your home and hum with you before robbing you of your possessions. 
 
 Pretty unlikely. 
 
 Still, I was scared shitless. I ca n't lie. And who would n't be? I was shaking in my boots... my socks... well, my bare feet. I was in just my underwear. 
 
 Like I said, I was n't expecting company. 
 
 So there I am, a pudgy, overweight man in his duck checkered boxer shorts wielding a replica of The Lich King's sword humming Bomberman 64 music at a stranger as I sneaked, glowing from the white and blue light of my computer monitor among the darkness, sweating profusely and shivering at whatever this thing was. 
 
 I could feel my heart leaping around in my chest without care of consideration of a proper rhythm, that damn surgery did nothing, losing sight and wobbling legs as I fought against its charge. What a night. 
 
 Next I knew I walked through the complete darkness of the hall, stumbling over cat toys and stubbing my toe on a bowling ball I got for my birthday six years back. Thanks dad for the thing you know I'd never fuckin' use. 
 
 Still, I managed. Even as the humming got louder and louder, well after I stopped. 
 
 If by now, whatever was out there could n't see me, or magically, could n't hear me, it surely could smell me. 
 
 I had a lot of Pizza Hut. Too much Pizza Hut. Which, really, no matter how you look at it, any Pizza Hut is too much Pizza Hut. But in this case, a whole pizza. And as tense as I was, let just say my backside could n't keep it together. 
 
 I turned the light on, and I swear to God I could n't believe my eyes. 
 
 It was a fucking burglar. A God damn... typical, run of the mill burglar, clad completely in black and wearing a mask over their face as they rummaged through my old DVD collection. And he was humming, absent mindedly. I could n't believe it. I still ca n't believe it. 
 
 I shouted, HEY! And the dude nearly jumped out of his skin, probably. He did jump. I was being poetic. Look, I scared him. He saw the sword, screamed like a little girl, and hightailed it out of my apartment with the grace of a twelve year old. 
 
 Okay... okay so I called the cops and everything. Got dressed. All that. I did all the stuff you're supposed to do. 
 
 Turns out the cops caught this guy... and it was n't a guy at all. It was a girl. A young girl. A little over twenty. First offense. Was trying to find a way to pay for college. Trying to be a computer scientist or something. 
 
 They asked me if I wanted to press charges and I decided, you know what? Nah. She gave me an interesting story. That's something, right? 
 
 She actually stopped by a few weeks later and thanked me. Next I knew we were dating, which seemed sudden, but hey, if she knew some Bomberman 64 music, how could I say no? 
 
 And that's how I found my future wife. Yeah we move fast. We're both lonely. Well... we were. I guess I seduced her with my near naked charge. 
 
 Good times. Good times. 
 
 Thanks Nintendo 64.
