One Last Hour

Nancy Morgan

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      The girl glanced up. She was noticeably shaking. Taking a deep breath, she spoke.

      "I've been thinking about what to say and I have it rehearsed as well as I can." She took another deep breath. "I've got a lot to talk about and, as you know, I'm on the clock."

      "My name is Nancy Morgan. I'm twenty-seven and I live alone in an apartment in downtown Gotham. Not the best place to live, but really, nowhere in Gotham is the best place to live. Everywhere seems to have some crime going on. Uptown is just more classy about it. Downtown has the gritty ones: murder, muggings, extortion, and whatnot. We're all pretty used to it by now. Gets to a point where some don't even bat an eye when they hear about the terrible things that happen in our city, much less do anything to stop it." 

      "I was born and raised here, never even had an out-of-city vacation. I've grown up among the good and the bad, and there's a whole lot more good than most people realize but only the bad makes the news most of the time. "

      "My birth parents died a long time ago. I never met them but I've been told they were good people."

      "I don't remember a lot of my childhood. I only remember the bits and bobs that are in any child's memories. There was my mom. I know she looked gorgeous, the picture on my nightstand reminds me of that every day. I remember that she was warm and her laugh sounded like bells. I never got to talk to her in more than the childish noises of a baby before she died; the car accident took place when I was eighteen months."

      "The accident was sudden and they said the death was instantaneous. No pain. I have my doubts though. I mean, what wouldn't you tell a kid who lost her mother, to make her feel better?" the girl posed the rhetorical question, shifting in her seat slightly.

      "The man responsible for it went to prison; Jedidiah Wilson was his name. I know that he was an alcoholic, which was the cause of the accident. I found out he had no family, that his wife died from cancer. But I never knew what became of him after he was released."

      "My father was dead by the time I was born. Policeman. Died in the line of duty. An escapee from Arkham Asylum got a hold of a gun, started shooting inside of a subway. My father took him down, sacrificing his own life, and saving lives in the process. I'm proud of him. I hope he knows that. " 

      She smiled sadly at the camera.

      "I was put in an orphanage at three. A nice couple adopted me, Richard and Mallory Morgan. They were kind people. It sure wasn't up to Bruce Wayne's style, but we lived comfortably and happily. Until the day they didn't come home. Their will left enough money for my college tuition and a decent housing situation. The rest was donated to several charities. Not that I mind. I get along nicely enough." A pause as she takes in a breath.

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      "I have no siblings, grandparents, or known relations. I go to college and work part-time as a waitress at Tina's Burgers. The shift works and the uniforms are cute. The customers are nice and they leave good tips. It's not much but it's my life."

      "My apartment is nice. It has two bedrooms, one bathroom with a bath and shower, and a nice kitchen. Plenty of windows, so I get enough light. When I first got there, all the walls were this bright shade of lime green. I hated it. So after a year, I spent some money on painting supplies. I bought a light gray color and painted the walls all by myself. But I forgot the wall behind the TV. And by the time I remembered it, I had gotten rid of my painting stuff, so I decided to leave well enough alone. It looks okay, kind of cool and modern." She smiled just thinking about it.

      "Anyway, after I moved to my new apartment, I met some of the people that lived in the building with me. There was this old lady named Lydia. She really liked to bake. She always sent over cookies, brownies, and cakes. A real sweetheart. But she passed away last year. Heart attack. I went to the funeral. I met her daughter and the daughter's husband. They weren't close but they cared enough to come, which was something, I guess." She thought back on it. "Murphy lived in the flat under me. He was good, old-fashioned weird. Twitchy and pale, but harmless. He always gave me a bottle of sparkling cider for Christmas. He cleared out a long time ago, in a real hurry. Not sure why. " She got a thoughtful expression on her face before shaking her head and continuing.

      "When Murphy left, Dexter moved in. He's cool. Always trying weird experiments. He's getting a degree in some science. I forget which one every time he tells me. But he's fine with it."

      "Then there's Bessy. She still lives here. We're friends, I think. We talk every day and sometimes go get coffee. I think that's what friends do. She moved in a year after me, at age twenty-five. She's cute as a button. Short brown hair in a bob and baby doll eyes. She's a waitress too. Works at a restaurant uptown. High end and all that jazz. She's really nice. I hope she lives a good life. She owes it to me, I suppose."

      "So my life is basic. I get up every day to go to school. I take art, literature, and public speaking. After that, I go to work. My shift lasts for four hours. I get home, collapse on my couch, and turn on the TV. And it's always the same. The same old crimes on replay. Sometimes it's about the arrest of a big-time criminal. But it never makes a difference. Someone else just takes his place, bigger and worse than him. I don't know why it doesn't make a difference. What stops us from changing Gotham, I can't say. I had lost hope that it would ever change."

      "But a while back," she said in apparent awe," that man appeared. The vigilante called the Batman. You've probably all heard of him. And as you know, he started cleaning up our streets. Took down Falcone and saved our city from absolute chaos. Ever since then, he's been around, saving ordinary people where he can. I bet he's saved more people than we'll ever know about. Lots of people still give him guff though. They call him a criminal. They say he should be brought to justice because he doesn't play by their rules. Perhaps they're right. I think they're wrong, but who asked my opinion?"

      "I don't know who he really is. I doubt few, if any, do. He's a mystery to all of us. A masked hero, who only comes out at night. Many people have seen him but most are now in prison and probably not the best of company."

      "I think he's amazing," her voice was almost soft. " I can only imagine how difficult it is to do that job, night after night. I don't think I could ever do it. But then again, who can really say?"

      She resituated on her seat the best she could and took a breath before speaking again.

      "We all have different callings. We don't always know what they are and sometimes we don't see the point in finding out. People in Gotham have this mindset a lot. If we can get by, live generally comfortably, and not put ourselves in harm's way, why should we put ourselves out? Just leave life as it is. And there's always the fear. It's everywhere. The fear of anything and everything that could happen. Who wants to take the chance to step around a corner if there's someone willing to mug you waiting behind it?"

      "That's what I see a lot of here. Maybe I should just accept that it's how life is. But I can't help thinking that it should be so much more. Unfortunately, I never do anything about it. Why? Because I get cold feet. I think to myself, "What if people come after me? What if my way of life is compromised?"

      Stopping, she hung her head slightly.

      "I get scared. It's pathetic, I know. My way of life isn't especially great or wonderful. In fact, it's ridiculously standard and unoriginal. But people cling to their way of life if it's the only thing they know. So I stay. Stuck in a cycle of the same thoughts and inaction. And I want to change it. So here it goes."

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