World of Make-Believe: Chelsea's Story

A Call and A Ticket

Chelsea leaned back into her chair, the office around her dark. She was usually one of the last people to go home- partially because of her boss, Mr. Jones, partially because she wanted to avoid Alex and Sally as much as possible. She watched through half slotted eyes as the two left arm in arm, only relaxing when the door shut behind them. This was it. She breathed out deep. This part of the day was her favorite. It was quiet aside from the bustling of Mr. Jones in his office, his desk light low and golden from behind his windows. Chelsea stretched slow and languid, slipping off her heels. It was nice to be alone.

"Alright!" She shook out her shoulders, slowly gathering her paperwork, powering down her computer and pushing her files and laptop into her bag, looking up as Mr. Jones flipped his lights and locked his office door. "Hey, did you need someone to walk with you to your apartment?"

He paused in front of her desk giving her an odd look, "I'm still spry enough." His knuckles knocked against the wood, "I could take anyone who tried me."

Chelsea felt the awkward discomfort sidle back up in her chest, her mind drifting back to the... creatures she had seen throughout the day. Despite Mr Jones' intimidating courtroom presence he was a man pushing his late sixties. He couldn't take an alligator woman, or anything like the gorilla man Chelsea had run into when she hadn't been paying attention crossing the intersection on her way back to work from lunch.

"Besides," he continued, cutting through her reminiscing, "there's not a whole lot a young woman like you could do to protect me. Unless you're thinking of safety in numbers?" He grinned good naturedly, holding the door open.

Chelsea smiled back tightly, hands clenching around her bag. He's a good man underneath it all. She reminded herself, stepping out into the cold breeze, gasping as headlights raced by, illuminating them in a steady stream of harsh brilliance.

Sure Mr. Jones didn't have tact or a sense of what was proper in a business office, often crossing boundaries, but it was never intentional or in mean-spiritedness.

Besides, She reasoned, he's being replaced soon.

Chelsea had only met her once, Mr. Jones's replacement, but she was cold and brutal. In just a couple months time she would be Chelsea's boss and Jones would be out, finally retired after nearly 50 years of hard work and dedication. She watched him with a fond kindness as he punched in the alarm system, locking the front door and pulling down the metal gate.

"Oh, let me!" Chelsea offered, taking his keyes and bending to lock it in place so he wouldn't have to.

He smiled, his eyes somewhat clouded as she put the keys back in his slightly trembling hands. Chelsea bit her cheek to stop her lips from turning down. She had never noticed before exactly how old he was. His hair was almost completely gone, his skin was marked with age spots, arthritis had swollen his right hand. She felt sorrow grip her.

He is a nice old man after all. She caught his gaze and smiled.

"Thank you Mr. Jones, I'll see you to a cab?"

"Oh no need. I always walk home." He shrugged her off, heading for the street corner at a leisurely pace. "I enjoy the exercise."

"Are you sure?" She felt a nagging urge to watch over him, probably from all the things she had seen today, worried about the visions that had been plaguing her.

"Of course. Goodnight." He smiled and gave a slight wave over his shoulder.

"See you in the morning, Mr. Jones." Chelsea raised her voice to be heard over the other people and traffic, but he hadn't heard her.

The cold bit through her clothes as she stepped out to the street, she kept her eyes squarely fixed on the vehicles speeding past as she tried, and failed, to flag down a cab.