A Vixen's Curse

1 ~ Heat

"Thank you, sir, you are too kind." The slightly muffled voice of my elderly neighbor, Sue, echoes from outside my door. With my keys in hand, I pull the door open to notice that she is waving mindlessly up the hall. As I step out, Sue smiles at me.

"Good afternoon, Cali, you off to work?" I shift a little from where I'm standing and glance in the direction she's facing, wondering who she was speaking with. "I sure am, Sue." I smile back at her, noticing 3 large bags at her feet. "Ah, who were you talking to?"

"Oh, I was thanking the kind sir who helped me with my groceries again. He is—" she pauses at the still empty hall. "Well, he was just here."

"Let me help you get those inside." I take the bag she is struggling to carry as I check the hall again, which is quite long and narrow. We are situated at the very end of our building, so the person surely would still be around here somewhere. Nevertheless, I shrug at her oddness, since it really wasn't that unusual for her. Last week she was telling me about some new kitty litter she bought for her cat that has been dead for almost 3 years. I enter her apartment, knowing the rooms off by heart, since it is set out the same as mine. You enter a small combined lounge dining area, with a kitchen to one side and one bedroom and bathroom to the other. I set the bag on her small, wooden table and quickly retrieve the other two. The air has a thick, musty scent to it. A strong presence of moth balls also makes my nose twitch. I walk over to the window of the lounge area and go to open it.

"Darl, don't bother. It's jammed closed again." I watch as she takes some tins from one of the bags and stacks them neatly under the sink.

"I will get it fixed for you tomorrow. You really need some fresh air in here. Would you like a hand to put this stuff away?" I grab a tin of tuna from the table.

"No, no, I'll be fine. I don't want to make you late for all those children." She takes the can from my hand. "Thank you, now run along." She potters over to the sink and I make my way back out to the hall. I've never had the heart to tell her that I'm not, and never have been a teacher. Children are not for me.

With our lift still broken for yet another year, I take the stairs down to the foyer, and head out the front doors. The afternoon sun is blinding but I blink it away as my eyes slowly adjust; the sound of doors slamming and people fighting, rings ambient in the background. Yeah, this neighborhood may not be the city of dreams, but at least it's got a strong... culture. I turn the corner and a prickly sensation sweeps my neck. If I was to put my finger on it, I'd say there was someone following me. With only another 2 blocks until I'm at work, I brush it off and pick my pace up slightly. Normally something like this wouldn't bother me, but this felt different. I round the next corner and jump out of the way as two govs tackle a rough looking guy to the cracked, moss covered sidewalk.

"Don't move. If you resist, this will only make things worse," one of the govs commands as he cuffs the man. A few more paces up the street and a homeless guy clinks his rusty cup of coins at me. He is sitting on a torn piece of cardboard, with a weathered knitted blanket draped over his shoulders. I take a bill from my purse and slip it to him for the second time in the past week. He was a postal worker for most of his life. I've always felt saddened for how the system failed him after retirement. I pass yet another concrete mass of apartments and wonder how different it would be to walk through a street of houses with gardens and yards.

I arrive at work and pull open the employee's entrance door. There's a hum from the music playing out front, buzzing through the walls. I continue past the kitchen and enter the change room. It's not too grand, there's a set of lockers on one side, a few small, mirrored vanities along the back and a square polished wooden table in the center. Unable to shake the lingering weird feeling, I slip my jacket off then remove my jeans mindlessly. With little thought as to which pair, I grab some heels from my locker. Upon exiting the room, I pass by 2 kitchen guys who are trying desperately to flirt with a table girl. I continue walking and trace my fingers along the tattered posters of the hallway, which leads to the back room.