As Katie took the last stair onto her floor, it became apparent that the sounds of laughter and hum of conversation were coming from her own apartment.

She paused for a moment, breathed in deeply, and exhaled what sounded like an epic sigh. Pushing her hair out of her face, she licked her lips and headed down the hall.

No need to use the key; it was already unlocked. No need to knock; she lived there.

But who the hell were all these people? And where the hell was Peter?

She scanned the crowd and balanced her briefcase, purse, keys…

The man in the suit was speaking to them both, “I want you to lie down in front of the window. People will be filing past, and that will give them the best view.”

“What exactly do you want us to do?” asked Callie, the shorter of the two, and younger by a few years. Her short curly hair, matched the short curly hair between her legs, which the man was looking at now. She followed his gaze and looked down. “Do you want me to shave it?”

“No. It’s fine. Everyone has their preferences, and I’m sure someone will…

Miranda had worked for Mr. Jordan for 15 years as the only flight attendant on his private jet. It was a sweet deal, really.

There were drawbacks of course.

Though she had a lot of time off, she was paid year-round to be on call. When Mr. Jordan wanted to fly, she had to be at the ready within an hour, sometimes less. It also meant she got to travel quite a bit herself. When Mr. Jordan went to Paris, so did she. When Mr. Jordan went to Dubai, Miranda did, too.

She knew several languages and had originally been…

It hung there, unopened, creamy white and expectant in midair. An unmarked envelope tied to a string over the kitchen counter.

She sat down her work things, piled her keys and purse on the counter, slipped off her blazer and placed it over the dining room chair.

With a smile that betrayed her prudence, she took hold of the envelope and detached it from the string that held it. Placing her finger under the flap, running it along the length, she split the paper slowly and gently, exposing a folded card, which she dislodged from its encasement and flipped open.

“Fuck!” I blurted between clenched teeth.

The blue and red lights in my rear view mirror were the last thing I had time or money for. But, as a law-biding citizen is wont to do, I immediately began looking for a place to pull over. It was a dark night on a poorly-lit highway, so I thoughtfully pulled down a side road to keep us both out of harm’s way. (Hey, what can I say…I’ve got nothing against cops, and I had no intention of watching this one turned into road kill by some inattentive driver.)

I turned down my…

Tanya was a pretty, yet plain woman. The only thing that set her apart from the crowd was her hair — a fiery orange-red and naturally curly. She kept it long only because she had no other choice. If she cut it, she’d be sporting an afro, which she felt would look odd atop her 5’7″, 140 pound, translucently pale and abundantly freckled frame. She wore simple, dark clothing and avoided patterns, figuring her hair was resplendent enough. Even her eyes seem to know better and kept themselves to a light gray most days.

She worked downtown as a legal…

Brigit Delaney

Blogger, teacher, writer. Lover of dogs, yoga pants, and a fine Irish whiskey.

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