flashback humour

A dimly lit hall, three other people and I, and I, and I, and you. You behind a closed door, you with another, hiding behind a closed door. A knock. It wasn't me that knocked but I encouraged the knock because I am jealous and scheming, because I am on the other side of this door, this locked door. And you're on your side and I'm on my side and there's a knock and no reply. We all know what's happening, thus another knock is called for. A knock, a knock, a knock. A question. Are you doing business in there? Why yes, yes you are. You're too busy and she's too busy and the door stays closed. Of course. The door stays closed and I stay on the other side and there you two are together, separate from the world. Flashback humour, I remember what it was like on your side of the door. Hearing the knock, quieting down, pretending we weren't there. Only neither of us was needed when you and I were tucked away tight behind the door. Unlike last night when she was needed to take care of her friend. Her friend. Her tiny, fragile, gossamer, light boned friend. The one she left throwing up in a bucket, to go enjoy a night with you. Behind your door. Flashback, when it was just us, people knocked and we giggled and hushed and there was no need for another knock. I may have encouraged the continuous knocking last night and it may have been because I'm jealous and scheming that I encouraged it, but it was still with good reason. If I had to push away the lump in my throat to tell the girl you were with that she had to take care of her friend, then I would have. But I never got the chance to even let my bitchiness show. My scheming, it all fell apart. You were on the other side of the door and it all fell apart.
From what I was told, you could hear her through the walls. I didn't even have to be on the other side of the door. Everything I needed to know was echoing through the walls.