I am Sydney Blake. I changed my name at age eighteen and a half because my previous name was considerably too boring for me, but after all the paperwork, long court appearence and not to mention the crude amount of moolah asked by the state in order to switch out my dull and outworn identity, I was intensely satisfied when I held my social security card to the sun and saw the rays shine through my new name: Sydney Alaska Blake. And with my new name there is no record dragging along with it, hiding behind me wherever I go, hence I have no history to tell you. I have no family, I have no friends, I have no debts, dues or damnations, I am just Sydney Blake who works at the small inn down the street.
The inn is run by an elderly couple who took kindly to me when I came in for an application (the day after my new name). I was a little worse for wear at the time but I suppose they saw that I was willing to work to the bone for them, and I suppose lucky me because they were in need of a work-to-the-bone worker. So I started the next day as housekeeper/front desk receptionist/general manager when they were away and just as front desk when they were in. That is my life to this point. I don't go to school (what else could they possibly teach me about what I already know?), I live in apartment 2B on Locust street in Treehill Pointe apartments, I eat ramen noodles everyday for breakfast lunch and dinner and I have a pet mouse named Pill. How I came to own Pill is a very interesting story as a matter of fact. I happened upon him in the basement of said apartment 2B, where he was living out of a cheerio's cereal box which happens to be my least favorite cereal and I figured he probably hated living inside the box of one of the worst cereals to ever be produced by mankind. I decided he would live with me as my friend, rather than a pest.
Today, Wednesday, is my first day off work. It's been four months since my new name, and I've worked almost everyday since. The inn couple, Earl and Frances, gave me a week of rest starting today so I'm spending this well earned time with Pill I suppose since I don't have anywhere to go or anything to do. As much as I don't understand why anyone would want to live inside a box for horrendous food, Pill won't sleep anywhere else. I was grabbing his squirrly body from the carboard cavern when a knock sounded at my door. I wasn't alarmed but rather, annoyed. I'd been getting flyers, jesus books, coupons and sales people everyday since it's summer time and everyone relates hot weather to good, well tempered attitudes I guess. Well, they certainly don't account for me who opens the doors and stares, waiting for them to open their smiling mouth and get on with it, which they never do. Instead we stand there for a few moments and look at eachother until they fumble over a "Hi" and an introduction of their name and where they're from, yada yada. Needless to say (but I'll say it anyway) I tell them no thanks and close the door. I uncurl from my hands and knees position, with Pill in hand, and shuffle to the door, making as little noise as possible hoping that since it took me so long to get up they will have assumed I'm not home and gone away. I stick my eye in front of the peek hole and see no one. A sigh of relief escapes me and I tell Pill,
"Just us then." smiling, I stroke his back and he stares at me with those emotionless beady eyes all rodents have. Another knock hits the door and I say an exasperated "shit", turn around and open my home to the sunshine and green leaves just outside the threshold of my doorway. There stands a tall but scraggly looking man, with open eyes and a thin nose. He isn't wearing any sort of suit or dress clothes so I assume he isn't selling anything. He says,
"Ms. White?"
"No, I'm sorry." I say, looking him over thrice to notice he's similar in age to me, give or take a few, dressed in t-shirt and jeans, with his hands stuck deep in his pockets, like a wanderer.
"Are you sure? Maybe I have the wrong apartment number. The forwarding address here-" he tilts a piece of paper toward me in the act of proving his words, "says that this should be the new place." He looked up at me with question when he finished, and I looked down at his paper. It was faded, a little rain warped, and very hard to read, but I saw where he made his error.
"You're looking for 2D. You see there? It's not a B, it's a D. It's over down that way-" I point to my right, down the hall, "and up the stairs. You should be able to find it from there." He pulls it back and looks at it and realizes I'm correct.
"Oh, okay. I see, yeah thats definitely a D now that I look at it again. I'm sorry, thank you very much ma'am." He smiles and does a little wave and I return the smile and start to close the door as he's turning to go, but Pill wriggles right out of my hand and scrambles through the door, making a break for wherever mice want to go when they have luxuries like cereal boxes to live in. The man notices the little mouse running past him as he actually almost stepped on him, but saw him in enough time to halt his foot from coming down right on top of the frail thing. He lets out an,
"Agh!" as I sort of jog after him, so the man follows, but he runs ahead to get in front of Pill while I stay behind, and we create a dead end so that the thing has nowhere to go. I scoop him up and hold more secure this time, since I see he obviously has a rebellious spirit (takes after me).
"Thanks." I tell the man,
"No problem. I figured it was no different than a dog running away and it would be more efficent if I aided you in the task of retrieving him since it's obviously my fault for knocking on the wrong door in the first place." he laughed and smiled at me apologetically. "I'm Max." He stuck his hand out and took it, keeping Pill close to my chest.
