The City of Strangers

Chapter One

I work in a hallmark; how ironic. I used to love love. When I was little, I would watch hallmark movies on repeat while dreaming of the day I'd meet my prince charming or the businessman that was sent to buy out my favorite place but ended up falling in love with me. But that isn't life. So now I am stuck behind a dingey counter peeling stickers off of plastic and sticking them on cardstock—what a magnificent life. Sure the job is temporary but working in a store that has Christmas literally starting in July and a never-ending supply of women who belong to The Real Housewives of New York City trying to outdo each other might be the death of me.

It's only September, but the windy snow has already begun to fall from the sky, relentlessly smacking against the glass roof of the mall. The vacancy is calming as the gray clouds darken the building. With no customers in sight, I take the box of cards and sit down on the small platform at the front of the store. It still amazes me that I am working a nine dollar an hour job after finishing a degree from NYU, but I open the plastic, take out the cards, place the sticker on, and put it in a box in alphabetical order. I feel like an overgrown toddler.

When my shift is over, it's six-thirty, and my stomach is growling like a neglected tiger. I clock out and grab my keys, then I walk to my favorite place in the entire mall, the food court. With so many options I really should try something healthier, but the cold creeping inside through the automatic doors are saying otherwise, Cinnabon it was. I could have eaten in the food court or wait until I got back to my apartment and eaten it off of a real plate, but Instead, I settel on breakfast for dinner in my car.

Four years ago, I would have thought that driving in snow, at any capacity, was a death sentence, but the traces of my southern roots are now buried under the feet of ice. The one thing I still refused to do was a park on the street while living in a snow globe for half of the year. This meant that any extra money I have goes to splurging on a garage. Sure it meant I live on the first floor, not the most assuring thing as a single woman living alone in the city, but the only door in or out was through the garage, which only had two remotes, and both of those were accounted for so it eased some of the worries.

A single window at the back of my tiny place was the only portal to the outside world, a small glance into what was happening outside my four little walls. Luna danced her way in between my feet, wrapping her tail around my ankle welcoming me back. This apartment is more hers than mine. I gave her more food and filled up her water bowl before I turned up the heater. Then, with a pair of shorts and a sweatshirt, I took a blanket from the box at the end of my couch and turned on the television. Kitchen Nightmares is the best form of therapy.

Gordan Ramsey cursing out the chefs must be appealing to everyone because Luna finished eating and jumped into my lap. As sad as it is, she is my only family. I got her for my fifteenth birthday after I begged my mom for a kitten. I had one growing up, but she lived with my dad up until they both passed away. It took three weeks and a promise that none of the costs would go to her bank account. So now she is seven years old and the only thing in my life that followed me into the city.

Boxes still occupy most of my apartment. It didn't make sense to unpack everything when I didn't have the money to furnish it or buy things to organize it. The boxes were good enough. No one besides myself was going to see it anyway. Besides Luna and quite frankly, I think she loves the jungle gym created by the cardboard.

I gave up trying to sleep in my twin-size bed after the first week of sleeplessnights. The couch had better sleep support than the mattress. And a window. Iturned off the lights and T.V and curled up into my blanket. Sleep was the onlything I looked forward to nowadays. It was the only time I allowed myself to dreamagain because it couldn't hurt you when you're already unconscious.