Thursday, January 21, 2010

She's spent her life running.

Everyday she evades the cop chasing her. She doubts he'll ever catch her; she doubts he even gives a shit. There's plenty more for him to deal with than a 19 year old girl stealing a box of gum everyday.

She stands at street corners.

She passes judgment at the hookers; they epitomize desperation daily. Hell, not that her living is much more honest. Her insecurities taint the 5 cents she earns from every piece of gum. But it's how she pays her rent.

That, and working for the superintendent.

She's known as the repair woman, but she fumbles with the wrench. No, the superintendent hired her as a pair of ears. Every night she hides beneath her mangy blue jumpsuit, riding the elevator, walking the halls, and listening to every useless morsel of quiet conversation. She tells the superintendent each word. Except if it's interesting. Those stories she hides behind her broken bed frame, broken dresser, and broken thoughts.

4 comments:

  1. 2. Don't let anyone inside, especially if it's that nosy 'repair woman.' - Psh, repair woman, my ass.

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  2. For blog #2...

    You know, there isn't much to do in this town... I just look out my window, talk to Edna J. Knox about the tenants and eat my food in my apartment; occasionally, I visit the antiques store across the street. I usually don't partake in their wares, but it's lonely around here.
    //
    Later. It's raining harder now, some sleet too. I don't look forward to the leaks that will probably happen in some of the other apartments; I don't want to have to fix them (I thought that was supposed to be Edna's job, but she isn't actually that handy with a wrench, or spackle for that matter).

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  4. The next time it started to rain, Altan asked the doorman if he would please watch the cart if Altan left it by the stairs - Altan assured the man that he would get some small compensation. The doorman replied with a reluctant, "Sure." Altan thanked him and padded slowly up to his room, worn out.

    Around four in the afternoon, the rain eased up again and Altan took his coat and gloves and headed downstairs. The doorman was no longer at his post though his jacket lay across the chair behind the desk. Altan thanked Allah that his cart was still in its place despite the doorman's inexcusable absence. As he pushed it toward the door, he halted. Why was it so quiet? Where was the bell? Altan looked anxiously all around the cart, felt in the drawers, peered into the multiple bags and jars, but it was gone. The metal hook that usually held the little trinket in place was bent out straight as if someone had yanked the bell from the cart spontaneously in passing. Altan huffed in annoyance - what was the point of a doorman if he didn't guard the entrance from thieves and hoodlums? Altan grabbed the doorman's jacket, found his wallet, and snatched a couple bills. Altan threw the jacket and wallet back onto the floor - that should teach the doorman keep watch more closely.

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