If The Price Sounds Too Good To Be True, Then It Is Too Good To Be True. I Learned That The Hard Way.

I called off work today. It was raining like crazy (still is), and you could tell I wasn’t the first person to call in when I spoke with the front desk girl. I knew I wasn’t going to be able to focus on work today, and I had more important things to do. Like test the foundations of my sanity, for instance. I checked my 1911, put it in the holster, and put the holster on. I put my suit jacket on over the holster, buttoned it up, then pulled my raincoat on over that. I had an Irish coffee to bolster my courage and keep me on my toes. I set out from my apartment, and crossed the street in the heavy downpour.

I approached the entrance to the tall grey building. I tilted my head back and squinted into the rain. I stared up at the 32nd floor. I didn’t count them up, but I could dart my eyes right to the window straight across from mine. It was identical to every window above, beside, or below it, but I could recognize that one instantly somehow. I looked back down as I got close to the doorman. He smiled politely and opened the door.

“Hello, sir. Welcome,” he said as he held the door open.

He didn’t call me by name. And why would he? I’d never been in this building before, after all. I was relieved he didn’t somehow recognize me. I half expected him to call me by my middle name and welcome me home. I just smiled back and nodded as I walked inside. I found the directory in the lobby. I looked up floor 32. I didn’t know which condo it was. I couldn’t just assume it would be the same number as mine, even though that unit was either vacant or unlisted. It didn’t seem like I had a lot of options, and I’m not exactly a detective. I caught the elevator by myself and hit the button for 32.

The elevator up was a slow and anxious ride. The elevator car was old and vintage looking. It had brass railing and mirrors that were aged and dirty in the corners. The car shuddered to a stop on the 28th floor, and the heavy double doors creaked open. Standing there was a little old lady with a big silly hat that cast shadows on most of her face and upper body. She gave me a grin that was full of crooked or missing teeth. She waddled up beside me, pressed the number for 31, and stared towards the doors as they stammered back closed. We rode up the next four floors in awkward silence. Maybe just awkward for me. After all, I had a loaded gun nestled neatly under my arm. Somehow, being near an old woman made me more nervous about having a gun. As though it was way easier for me to accidentally shoot an old lady than a young person. She smelled something awful, too. Not just regular old person smell, or even trumped up dirty old person smell. It was something new, distinct, and awful. Like a cloud of chalk in the air, mixed with burning hair. It was hard to breathe in. One of many reasons I didn’t strike up a conversation.

The elevator opened its doors on floor 31, and the odd old lady waddled out of the elevator. She stopped once she was fully out and standing with her back to me. She turned her body to face me just as the doors started to close. I watched her smile at me with that horrible row of upper teeth protruding from her overbite.

“It’s nice seeing you again, Mr…. You look much better,” she said to me as the doors shut closed right after. I didn’t type it here, but she said my last name. I’d never seen the old bat in my life, but somehow she knew my name. That horrible fucking smile was the last thing I saw before the mirrored doors shut, and I was left staring at my own dumbfounded expression. I stood, frozen in confusion and at least a little fear and paranoia. The elevator rumbled to a stop again, and dinged at the 32nd floor. I hesitated a second before slowly exiting the floor.