Madame Mystic's Advice

I stare out the window at the fluttering snow flurries. I can't believe today was the day my psychic was telling me about. The snow is mixing with the dirt on the ground and creating a disgusting, brown slush that coated all of Watershed Heights. I can sense no good energy from this day, but who was I to doubt Madame Mystic? If my psychic tells me I should venture out today, then venture I shall.

I slowly tug on my elbow-length rubber gloves and carefully position my surgical mask, placing the extras in the pocket of my long, yellow parka. I stuff my thickly-padded feet (three pairs of socks, of course) into my faded pink rain boots. I take a long look in the mirror, and realize I'm missing my most essential accessories: my collection of Evil Eye jewelry. Thank God I realized; I just saved myself from a whole lot of panic.

I take a deep breath and push open the door, hearing the rusty hinges squeak from their lack of use. Anxiety washes over me as I step over the threshold. I hear someone crying in the room next door: an omen. I clutch my Evil Eye necklace, feeling its power rush through me. I can do this.

I hold my breath as I take the evelator down to the lobby and weave my way to the door. I am careful not to touch anything. Outside it is still snowing, blanketing Watershed Heights. I shudder. Madame Mystic says today is important. Phoebe, go outside.

I cringe as I place my protected hand on the doorknob and swing the door open, feeling the rush of dirt and wind hit me in the face. I am only responsible for staying outside for thirty three minutes. Then I can go inside to the safety of my apartment. I step outside, walk thirty three steps away from the building. I wait.

I look around the building, searching for the magical moment Madame Mystic promised me. I look down, around, and behind, making sure I don't move from my spot. Finally, I hear something.

"Oy!"

I look up to see a mysterious looking man peering at me from his window. His hair is scruffy, and I see evidence of a five-o-clock shadow forming on his child-like face. A small smiled creeps onto my face. His gaze does not waver, and a chill shoots through me, forcing me to catch my breath. Then, the man abruptly shuts the window. I waste no time, and I scurry inside to call Madame Msytic. Who was that?

Not Today

It's raining today. Even God is crying over the disgust of this place. I'm not going outside today. I called my psychic yesterday, and she told me today was going to be stressful and suggested that I stay put. It is, after all, the 3-month anniversary of my divorce with my ex-husband. I'm most definitely staying in bed today.

I look out the dirt-smeared window. A huge flock of pigeons has just descended on the block, and my heart starts racing. Aren't pigeons a death omen? Yes, I think they are. That confirms it. I refuse to leave my bed today.

Through the thin door that protects me from the germs outside, I hear a baby crying. I think the baby belongs to a woman named Roxy. Oh, please make that baby stop! If only I could do something about the crying myself, but I can't because I'm not getting out of bed today. No, thank you.

A Stressful Outing

I've been here three weeks, and I still can't stand this place. Alas, I think it's about time I try and explore my surroundings. I need to start somewhere, and I most definitely need to get a job if I ever want to earn enough money to get the hell out of here. Alright. Here we go.

Three pairs of socks: check. Three pairs of leg-gear: check. Three shirts: check. Three sweaters: check. Three pairs of plastic gloves: check. Rainboots: check. Surgical mask: check. Extra surgical masks in case contamination is too bad: check. Hat: check. Okay, I'm ready to venture out.

I take a deep breath as I open the door of my apartment building. I take a peek outside and immediately step back into my room. SO MANY GERMS. Alright... take two. I step out into the hallways and move as swiftly as possible. Lock the door, wipe the knob with sanitzer and a tissue, turn and get out of this apartment building.

First stop is Mr. Foo's. The entire restaurant smells of rice and nail polish. Gross. I walk quickly up to one of the waiters, but stop abruptly when I hear the name "Switch". That is my ex-husband's dog's name. Obviously that is a sign that I should look elsewhere for a job. This place has bad chi. But I can't continue my search tonight. It's already been too stressful. Maybe three days from now when I've had time to calm down from this outing.

A Clean Beginning

Just three more scrubs and the floor will be clean. Or maybe thirty-three. Yes, thirty-three and I’ll be done for now. I lift my head and take a look around my new apartment building. The smell of bleach is overpowering, but I will do what it takes to clean this disgusting apartment thoroughly.

I look back down at my scrub brush and continue rubbing the bleach into the hardwood floor, counting each push and pull. I can’t believe my luck. I have to call this vile place my home. The only reason I live here is because I broke a mirror. Well, technically I live here because my recent divorce has left me temporarily broke, but I never would have gotten a divorce, or moved to a shithole, or had years of bad luck if I hadn't accidentally broken a mirror. If it weren’t for the endless supply of cleaning products and the three bottles of bleach I have delivered each week, I don’t think I would be able to survive here.

I can’t even leave this appalling apartment and enter the even more god-awful neighborhood without a surgical mask, long-sleeve clothing, and rubber gloves and boots. As soon as I get enough money, I’m moving away from this vile idea of a city and forgetting that this part of my life ever occurred.