Deadlier Than Guns

I’d barely finished moving into in my first apartment when
through the paper-thin walls I could hear angry female words of reproach and
mocking. I muffled the noise by turning up the stereo. Yet I wondered about my sharp-tongued
neighbor—and the one on the receiving end.
A couple weekends later, when I’d hoped to sleep in, I was awakened by a crash. I could tell something broke—but the words that followed were worse. “You’re a complete idiot!” she screamed with her trademark venom. I could hear the sound of feet running and a younger voice saying, “Sorry, sorry, sorry!” Her tirade was more than mean-spirited; it was cruel. I felt awful.
Later, I was outside watering the plants by my front door when my neighbors emerged from their apartment. The woman looked at me briefly, unsmiling and holding the hand of a young boy—probably five or so.
His dark eyes locked onto mine. Was he silently pleading with me? His mom jerked him forward, but as he walked away he turned and looked at me with…
A couple weekends later, when I’d hoped to sleep in, I was awakened by a crash. I could tell something broke—but the words that followed were worse. “You’re a complete idiot!” she screamed with her trademark venom. I could hear the sound of feet running and a younger voice saying, “Sorry, sorry, sorry!” Her tirade was more than mean-spirited; it was cruel. I felt awful.
Later, I was outside watering the plants by my front door when my neighbors emerged from their apartment. The woman looked at me briefly, unsmiling and holding the hand of a young boy—probably five or so.
His dark eyes locked onto mine. Was he silently pleading with me? His mom jerked him forward, but as he walked away he turned and looked at me with…