2nd Floor

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Matthias pulled his work shirt from the rickety drier, his mind miles away. His thoughts floated in a land of mysterious readers bending skeptically over his work, shaking their heads and clucking their tongues. They muttered to one another. "This won't do." "Not what I'm looking for." "Simply terrible."

"You look lost."

Matthias jumped and spun, smacking a knee into the open door of the drier with a resounding 'clang'. An old women stood in the doorway to the laundry room, a small basket braced on one hip and her eyes lost in the wrinkles of her smile. She was possibly the shortest woman Matthias had ever seen, but that didn't diminish her at all as she marched into the room and prodded a squat footstool from a corner with her free hand so she could load the washer.

Matthias rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Yeah, I was daydreaming I guess."

"You looked angry." The woman observed as she upended her laundry into the drier. Matthias tried to ignore the flower print underwear that tumbled in beside the skirts and sweaters.

"I... I guess maybe I was feeling a little annoyed." Matthias tugged the stubborn drier door back open and finished scooping his clothing out. "I'm Matthias, by the way. Matt." He turned and held out a hand. His hand entirely enveloped hers, which was warm and soft and somehow different from a child's hand, even if it didn't seem much larger than one. He had half expected her to have that 'old person' smell, but she didn't. Unless a faint whiff of hairspray counted. Instead Matthias scented chicken soup and his stomach gave a sad little twinge. It had been two days since mysterious Trav had paid him a visit with those sandwiches and it had been ramen and eggs ever since. Matthias sometimes heard his e=neighbor on the other side of his door from time to time, but hadn't had the nerve to knock and ask him to come over.

"People around here call me Mrs Penny." The woman"s smile once again buried her eyes in wrinkles. "Or just Penny if you like. Have you met everyone in the building yet, Matt?"

"Not yet," Matthias shrugged. He held his laundry, ready to go, but couldn't seem to leave. He'd never lived without a roommate or family before and while he kept assuring himself that writers were loner introverts, it was getting harder and harder to keep up that mantra.

"Musician?" Penny asked, gesturing at him from atop her stool.

"Pardon?" He blinked.

"Are you a musician?"

"Er, no, I'm a writer."

"Ah." Penny nodded sagely. "I knew you were an artist, you have that look. Hungry. Unfulfilled."

A sharp laughed escaped Matthias before he could catch himself. He clamped his mouth shut and gave Penny an apologetic look. She chuckled and waved off his concern. "I know because I was an artist for a long time too until my hands got too stiff." She looked him up and down and Matthias felt a bit like his own grandmother had returned from the grave and was about to proclaim him 'too skinny' as she had done through his childhood. "Come on, Matt, why don't you accompany me back up to my place and I'll fix us some lunch? You can drop off your laundry on the way." Penny stepped lightly down from her stool.

"But, your clothes?" Matthias cut a glance at the washing machine, which had rattled to life and was sloshing anemically into the wash cycle.

"No one is going to steal my clothes," she winked playfully at him and headed for the door, clearly expecting him to follow.

"I-" Matthias started, then closed his mouth again. He pictured his barren refrigerator and his stomach growled. He hitched his basket onto his bony hip and trailed after the woman. He could hear his sister April's voice in his head. 'Mattie, it's a good thing you're a guy because you'd follow a a creepy man back to his kidnap van if he asked you' He wished he could tell imaginary April that he wasn't so easy to boss around, but he didn't have a leg to stand on as he followed a stranger upstairs on the promise of soup.