Other Sides: 12 Webfiction Tales

Junk Drawer by M. Jones

Sally puttered about her apartment, wondering when it was she had acquired so much junk. No surface was free, and it was becoming an increasing problem as of late to merely get around the stacked, piled items to make it to her front door. With a tired sigh she picked up an ancient magazine layered in dust at her feet and shook it off before laying it on top of another pile of boxes to her left. She glanced over her shoulder into her kitchen, and was sickened by the pile of dishes that had grown overnight in her sink. Usually that particular section of the apartment was kept spotlessly clean, but the last few days had been a challenge. She shook her head and slung her purse over her shoulder. Tonight, when she got home from work. There was no way she was keeping any of this crap any longer.

She kicked aside a pile of clothes. T-shirts of unknown vintage. Shoes that had worn out their welcome. She looked forward to the purge.

As she waited for the bus to take her to her office job deep in the city, Sally had time to contemplate what had brought her to this situation, a fact she wasn't happy to explore. Ron, her boyfriend of five years, had decided that no, he didn't want a nice house with a two door garage and a girlfriend baking cookies in his massive, ornate kitchen. With the scent of burning chocolate muffins in the air, he had announced that it was over, that he was selling the place and moving out of State to another city, another home, where he was going to make his success as a commodities broker. This lovely house and its lingering responsibility was heading to market. Just like that. A snap of the fingers, and he was the wealthy one, off to make his fortune and buy more stuff for his stuffy condominium in Florida.

So, here she was, same city, same bus stop, same job, same pile of stuff that had once comfortably fit into a large house now crammed into a one bedroom apartment, the entirety of which was about the same size as her former living room.

##

Three bags had gone to her local charity thrift store, but there was the nagging sensation that something more had to be done. Sally wiped her brow with the back of her hand, a thin sheen of sweat beading against her skin. It hadn't been a good day. She was threatened with a layoff, a message that came direct from her boss. Downsizing. Her mother had called, asking if she was coming home for Thanksgiving, and if she did she'd need to stay at a hotel. There just wasn't any room. Ron had left a message on her answering machine: "Sally, I'm just calling to ask if you've seen my blue sweater, the one with the worn elbow. It's not mine, it's Dave's. Don't call me back, I'll be too busy to answer my cell. Leave a message."

Her phone rang, and she pushed aside a collection of dusty socks and tea cozies to get to it. "Hello?"

"Sally!" her friend, Debra, exclaimed. "It's so good to finally get a hold of you!"

Sally sighed, overwhelmed with the relief of having someone to unburden herself to. "Debra, I'm so glad..."

"Listen, I'm on the run right now, I'm heading to the Bahamas in an hour, so I have to pack and get going. Heard about the break-up, that must suck."

"Yeah. Ron and I..."

"Stuff happens, what can you do? I never liked the guy anyway. I just didn't want to say. Thanks for the email with your address-I'll send you a postcard!"

"Debra, I..."

The dial tone droned.

##

She could barely find her mail beneath the piles of telephones. When did these things start springing up? She'd never bought them, she was sure of it. A crazy part of her brain insisted they were shoved on her, unwillingly, by some unknown reverse burglar in the middle of the night who kept dropping things off instead of taking them away. Despite her efforts, her apartment was slowly becoming more and more cluttered, a massive external weight gain that she had no explanation for. Rummaging amongst the receivers, she found her utility bill. It had gone up a significant amount, enough to make eating out a thing of the past.