Pamela opened the door to her apartment. The light was on in the kitchen. The kitche itself was neat and white. the only color was a painting above the pantry door. At the center of the kitchen was the embedded table and six small saddleback chairs. To the right was the window and the sink that faced the neon sign.
The tracklighting was muted versus the neon sign constantly blinking. Pamela took off her coat and put in the closet in the foyer before stepping into the kitchen.
She went over to the curtains over the sink and pulled them closed. Although they wouldn’t negate the hypnotic light. He headed to the living room area off the kitchen. There was a couch and the TV was embedded into the wall. The chair next to the couch was huge and meant to encompass and cushion the sitter. She herself often sat in that chair, because next to the chair was a box of tissue, her gauze and other bandages, and her selection of eye patches.
She took off her patch and set it in the pile near the chair. Rachel came out of her room. Thin and lithe, she reminded Pamela of a tall, elongated fairy without wings. Her hair was cut short to be available for wigs. Rachel turned to Pamela. “How as the party?”
“Usual,” said Pamela, checking the locks on the windows.
Rachel yawned. “Anyone say anything?”
“No.” Pamela started heading to her bedroom, the one no one wanted because it faced the same stupid neon sign that blinked all night. She had bought black shades which helped tone down the glare.
“You need ot get out more,” said Rachel. “You’re starting to act like a hermit.”
Pamela shrugged, and opened the door to her bedroom. She closed it, and started to get undressed. She pulled out Luke’s card. Maybe she’d call him. He didn’t seem to be that bad, now that she thought about it. Maybe Rachel was right. She was self-sabotaging her own chances of making friends.
Pamela pulled on a t-shirt and sweats, and got into bed.
