Thursday, August 19, 2010

For the last time...

Vivian Mooney has seen it all. Whether in this life, or, as she so ardently believed, in a previous life, Vivian knew that everything and everyone will eventually come back around again to appear in something or as something that already has occurred. Take this building for which she is the front desk attendant. In another life, she knew, she had been a conceige in a small, yet exclusive, hotel on the French Rivera. Now, she merely sighed at the smudged dry erase board that no one noticed, the chipped wrought-iron that stood between her and the rest of the world, the black and white tile that no matter how much she sweeps, the dirt never moves and the dark mahogany wood counter that now holds only her hands and a phone that never rings. Today is the first day of the month. Some of the tenants have quietly slip away during the night. They carefully open the door to the stairs to the first floor and across the lobby just outside the pool of light that kept Vivian company on sleepless nights. The last day of the month was always one of those nights. Vivian never collected rents. She stays in her office and likes to bet with herself who will sneak out on their rent. If she guesses right, she notes it in her journal and buys herself another trip to the fortune teller. She is amused by the fraud, Sister Topaz. The fortune teller doesn't understand the ebbs and flows of time. Vivian knows. She looks up from her book to see her boss roughly push open the front door of the building and slam his palm on the counter. Vivian isn't amused at her boss.


  1. Time: 11:34 am
    Location: Watershed Heights Lobby
    Temperature and Humidity: Same

    I left a Bartlett pear (Pyrus communis) seedling and a note explaining the tree was intended to pay my rent for the basement on the concierge's desk next to the phone. I do hope she takes care of it.
    Calm down Margie-girl. There's nothing to worry about. If the floor keeps going like it is, by the time that tree is big enough to transplant into another pot there'll be enough dirt on the black-and-white (is it?) tile to sustain it as a freestanding organism.

  2. a night on the town
    lucky walked down the street looking for a place to relieve himself, somewhere nice and cozy where he wasn't too vulnerable, somewhere he might get some more food too...he strolls in from of what looks like a nice apartment building, maybe some fool put his leftover Chinese food out in the hall, never fails...he walks up a few floors to a door with lots of locks and a sign on it that reads "VIVIAN MOONEY," "looks like an ideal place" lucky thinks to himself, "nice oriental carpet too, very artsy."