Paper | Thin is an ongoing serial revolving around an eavesdropping neighbor and two elderly sisters. For more Paper | Thin episodes, go here: Navigation.

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Get caught up: Navigation

Aggie died. Or I thought she had. I didn’t hear her speak for several days. I heard Lawrence chirping and the click-clack of Flo’s tap shoes as she walked around their kitchen, but no Aggie. No conversation, no banter—no spicy quarrels. Then, this morning, I heard a squeal of joy from Flo; it was Aggie, she’d returned.

As it turns out, Aggie had been away visiting their uncle Lou. I’m unsure the age of this uncle, but it seems unlikely he is a blood relative, unless he has a health regimen that works really well. Either way, how she left was…odd. It all started when Lawerence, Aggie’s bird who has free reign of their apartment, flew up to the headrail of their blinds and wouldn’t come down.

“Lawrence, get down from there!” Aggie shouted. “You’re going to get your tail feathers all dusty!”

Flo laughed, slammed down her palm on something, maybe the kitchen table, and said, “This reminds me of when we would visit Uncle Lou in Shasta. Remember that, Aggie? Oh, w…

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Welcome to Paper | Thin, a weekly serial documenting the passions and tribulations of two eccentric sisters, Aggie and Flo, living in an apartment in San Francisco. No need to place a cup to the wall, it’s paper-thin.

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Welcome to Paper | Thin, a weekly serial documenting the passions and tribulations of two eccentric sisters, Aggie and Flo, living in an apartment in San Francisco. No need to place a cup to the wall, it’s paper-thin.

For lovers of What Ever Happened to Baby Jane, Gray Gardens, and Rear Window.

Episodes:

12/03/99 | Aggie & Flo

12/04/99 | Smitten

12/09/99 | Uncle Lou

12/13/00 | A bird in the hand...

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The apartment is quiet between the hours of 3 pm and 4 pm. That’s when both sisters in the apartment next door nap. But when nap time is over, I hear that familiar click-clack of Flo walking across the kitchen floor, the whine of the fridge door opening, and the rattle of bottles when the fridge is then closed. It took me some time to figure out why her steps sounded like a crow trying to break open a walnut, but eventually, her sister Aggie filled me in, only she didn’t know I was listening; I’ve never met either of the sisters, but these walls are paper-thin.

It was last month. I remember the day because I had the worst hangover of my life, incurred from an evening of debaucherous fun—I’m told—at an open bar wedding the night before. There was a sudden click clack click clack click clack coming from what felt like inside my skull. I was going to yell or bang on the wall—or cry—but then Aggie yelled to her sister, “Would you take those damn tap shoes off! You’re not sixteen anymore!”…

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