The Fallen Post

As usual, her feelings turned out to be accurate. Someone had been watching her. It was the man from the elevator, and this time Mirela had a name to put to his face. Mamet. Mirela had gone to the theater to get her mind off of him, but encountering him was inevitable. She had to face her strange mix of feelings head-on because there was just no escaping what was meant to happen. Dinner was the plan, yet Mirela had some odd premonition that this would never be. Mirela felt excited and uneasy about this entire situation. Finding Mamet in this odd run-down town seemed too good to be true.

She began to walk home seeing that Mamet had already turned the corner of the block. The closer she got to the apartments the sharper the sensation she had to turn around or to leave entirely. She fought this urge, pulling her feet to the ground in front with each daunting step. Mamet seemed different from the other men. From a particular glint in his eyes she knew that she was safe with him. Why was her body telling her to stop in her tracks and run? Once she was just a block from the Thallow Flats, she could no longer move. Her body was trembling with fear inside and out. She grabbed onto the wall of a building, curled up into a tight ball and held on, waiting for something to happen.

"BOOOOOOM"

A sound that could rupture eardrums from at least 100 miles away penetrated Mirela hearing. Quickly following the boom, a shrill, high-pitched ringing filled her ears. Then her stomach dropped as she vaguely heard a thud off into the distance. Her bewildered eyes darted up to the sky near the flats, which was now filled with a thick black smoke. She ran to him.

The air was so full of smoke and ash Mirela could barely breath. The sound of crumbling and crunching wood accompanied the shrill ring in her ears. Through the dusty air she could barely make out the outline of Barnaby's house collapsing. And that's when she saw him. In a bed of rocks and earth, Mamet lay pinned beneath a heavy wooden light post. Mirela leaned over Mamet searching for life, for a split second she thought she even saw him looking back into her eyes. She pushed and pulled on the light-post, but it wouldn't budge. She tirelessly attempted to force the splintery light-post off of Mamet. Then she saw the lights. Flashes of blue and red shone through the dusty air. Help had arrived. In utter exhaustion, she slid her body across the ground to move closer to Mamet. As she did this, something sharp ripped through her flesh. Dark red blood stained her blouse. Underneath her was a scattered pile of glimmering diamonds. In that second she knew that the very diamonds that sliced her skin had also cost Mamet his life. All was a result of Greed. Tears flooded Mirela's eyes, knowing that she would leave the Thallow Flats, alone, never to return. She pressed herself against Mamet, holding onto him for as long as she could.

The Eyes & The Theater

As Mirela walked the streets in a daze, she imagined his nurturing eyes, framed by modest wrinkles at the corners. That set of eyes was realistically etched into her memory just from the few moments they had spent together in passionate silence. She searched back deeply into her detailed reminiscence to interpret his every movement. What had he been thinking…and feeling? He had looked at her with honest curiosity and concern, almost as though he hadn’t looked at anyone in that way in years. Unfamiliar stirrings occurred in Mirela, as she hesitated to trust what her heart was telling her. The man had been nearly twice her age and was even old enough to be her father.

Finally, a break in the sunlight tore through her daydream, pulling her back to consciousness of the present. Mirela looked up at the overhang of the once magnificent town theater. Bright, new posters were plastered up on the walls. Apparently the old theater was of new use. Flyers and brochures were being given out at the ticket booth. Mirela slipped one of the glossy brochures out of its holder, and traced her fingers under the bold letters as she read. A local group of actors were having several fundraising plays benefiting the renovation of the town theater. Oedipus Rex, The Dumb Waiter, and Othello were some of the plays that were to be performed. Mirela was more than happy to stumble upon the doorstep of the theater because she enjoyed any sort of theatrical performance. A play was perfect to ease her mind because she had been contemplating everything far too much lately. As she flipped through the pages of brightly colored masks and men in tights, she looked up, having the sneaking suspicion of being watched.

The Elevator

The elevator door shut slowly behind Mirela. She waited in the car for a stranger on some other floor to press the up or down button.

Scanning the small square of space, she observed the stains on the burgundy, patterned carpet, the bronze railings tarnished in the places where they were used the most, the scratches on the mirror, and in the mirror-herself.
She stroked the small scar hidden by her eyebrow, the ridge of her nose, her lips, and her jaw-line. Then she imagined the countless wounds and flaws that were invisible to the eye, yet existed inside of her. In this moment, she realized why she had chosen this town as her home. She had something in common with this unpolished town. She was comfortable amongst imperfection.
Closing her eyes, Mirela filled her lungs with a large amount of air and then released it. She did this several times before the room subtly began to lower. She opened her eyes and saw that one of the yellowed buttons was lit.

When the doors opened, a some-what scruffy, yet attractive older man stood in front of Mirela with a surprised expression on his face. After several seconds of very direct eye contact, the man became conscious of his expression and immediately blundered into the elevator. Reaching for the yellow buttons, their fingers collided, both pressing the one for the atrium.
The unexpected touch startled the both of them. The two looked up at each other slightly smiling, as their eyes locked. Mirela read his face; deep into his greenish-brown eyes, she found a hint of comfort. It was strange. That morning she had been so lost, so alone. By simply looking into the warm eyes of a stranger, her heart flickered with hope.
The intense silence was broken by the familiar “DING” of the elevator.

The doors opened and two men stood waiting to enter the elevator. Mirela recognized one of them as living on her hall and frequently rushing to work, and the other as an angry bookstore customer.

With one last curious stare, the two strangers departed, exiting the elevator.