Unattended

1. Not Even The Beginning

         The repercussions of one's actions should never be kept in the back of their mind. Don't use the restroom while making grilled cheese, it will burn. Don't sit down without making sure you have everything you need, it will put you in a foul mood. 

         Some people like to test how far they can go without repercussions. Unfortunately, other people have to suffer when the limits of others are met. 

         Many times, repercussions are minor. It's easy to just make a new grilled cheese, or just be okay without the hair clip you forgot after sitting down. But when you fuck up, it is difficult to determine if your mistake is beyond repair; if it is even worth trying to mend.

         Perhaps I should leave my thoughts before the repercussions of them get me fired for losing track of time.

         I place the coffee pot I've been holding in place for ten minutes on the warmer, and walk back to the kitchen of the restaurant. Not looking forward to the many dishes I am going to face one through the brown swinging door. I remind myself that the longer I stall, the higher chance I have of running into a group of lousy, drunk assholes coming from a bachelor party.  

***

         It feels as though I have been working for hours. I finally turn the corner onto my street, but I am so over striving to lay in my bed. The street bench ten feet away from me would do just fine.

         I pick up my feet, one after the other. With every step I take my body gets closer to my building. The flickering of the dysfunctional street light is making me feel more drained rather than keeping my tired eyes open with the straining light. You're almost there, I thought to myself. I wrap my overcoat tighter around my body, for what little protection from the cold it offers, and continue down the sidewalk. After contemplating taking a break on the bench, I concur that if I were to sit down now, there would be no hope of making it to my apartment.

         Once I reach my building, I go to open the door, stopping only for a moment to take in the appearance of the ghostly reflection staring back at me on the glass door. I walk toward the stairway while taking in my surroundings, despite the fact that I have walked through this exact lobby a hundred times. I am only trying to focus on anything but the feeling of every muscle and bone in my body melting from the warm air that struck me as I entered the building.

         I just need to make it up the stairs. Five floors. I repeat to myself, I do it every day. I do it every day. I do it every day...

         Since the building has been around since the eighteen-hundreds there is no elevator, and quite frankly, I do not believe that the structure would be able to make it through the installation process.

         After half an hour, I made it to my floor. I push through the stairway door using my body weight, and into the fifth floor hallway.

         Seven doors away from where I stand in front of the stair entrance door, Eli Steven, the building owner and my landlord, is fiddling with a tape dispenser that is only half the size of his hand. He is a heavier set man; got the perfect build for a linebacker (pretending that I know anything about sports).

         Walking toward him, still at my slow pace, I notice an orange paper being held up in the pit of his arm. My stomach drops. The sudden surge of adrenaline through my body sends me forward at a much faster pace in the direction of Eli. All thoughts of exhaustion dissolved as soon as I realized his intent while standing in front of my door, still struggling with the tape dispenser.

         "Mr.Steven, I yell at a whisper, not wishing to disturb any of the other tenants. Coming to a stop but five feet away from him, Eli stares at me with a startled expression. I straighten my stance, easing off of my toes and onto my heels.

         "Bam, I thought ya was 'ready in your place." The fact that I have told him, many times, not to call me that merely adds onto my current mood.

         "Were you just going to tape the eviction notice to my door as a surprise to go along with my morning coffee?" My words came out a bit snakier than intended. "I apologize, Mr.Steven. This consequence is my own fault. I-"

         "Why ya do that?" Eli interrupts.

         "I'm sorry?"

         "Sometimes ya talk like a normal human-bean. Other times ya talk like ya was from sixteenth century England."

         "It is just a habit, I suppose." No one has ever commented on the way I speak. I would like to point out that the one talking improperly is him, but it's most likely better to just go along with whatever it is he is he has to say right now.

         "Ah, well. Anyway Bam, i'm real sorry but this is the fourth time ya rent is late. I don't want to do this, and I know it's awful soon, but imma need you out by tomorrow night, I got a couple wantin' your apartment asap and they are stoppin' by at six."

         I look down at the checkered carpet floor of the hallway, a million things running through my mind, yet I still manage to get distracted by the tape dispenser. Eli must have dropped it when I shouted at him. I bent down to pick it up, and give it to him.

         "Thanks," Eli says, confused by my lack of reaction to his news i'd guess. I step past him while reaching into my bag for the key to my apartment, searching only for a moment before retrieving it from underneath my apron.

         I stare at both of the keys on the key chain, once again forgetting which one goes to my apartment. I cannot seem to remember for the life of me. There is only one other key on the chain and it goes to my work locker. I put the key in and squinted my eyes, merely willing to to be the one. Since it doesn't, I try the other one, and sure enough, the lock clicks. I turn the knob and open the door.

         Feeling the pair of eyes burning a hole in my skull, I turn around to face Eli. "I will be out by six, although i am not certain that i will be able to take everything with me, so i will be leaving things behind,"

         "Alrighty," he replies as I shut the door behind me and walk further into my apartment. Out of nowhere the exhaustion surfaces again. I slip my shoes off, laying my bag and coat on the small table to the right side of the door. I lock the door, to ensure safety, before heading to my bedroom, removing my pans and bra on the way. I am far too tired to think on anything of importance. I make sure to set my alarm before finally drifting off almost instantly. 

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First chapter. I will post the next one by next week, and it will be longer. Before I continue though, I need to know how this first person narrative is looking. If some think it would be better in the third person, I can change it in no time. Just let me know. <3