Mad Woman Rambles

No matter how much money I spend on these damn eye creams, they never make these bags go away. I grimace at the reflection in the storefront window. Sighing, I replace my large, dark designer sunglasses trying to hide my shame. I fluff my bangs and begin strolling back down the street towards my luxury apartment.

Mrs. Bingham steps out of the black town car and looks around spotting me walking towards our building. Dirty old bird. If she wasn’t so old and knocking on death’s door, I would jump into her. Unfortunately, she is, and I am not going to get stuck in a corpse again. I didn’t appreciate it 200 years ago and I wouldn’t appreciate it now even if she is the richest person in our building. The old bird waves when she sees me. My fake million dollar smile automatically slides into place. Years of practicing pays off. Unfortunately, I always have to relearn how to smile with every new body.

“Oh hello, Mrs. Bingham. Lovely to see you this morning,” I call out to her returning her wave. She nods in acknowledgement and continues to shuffle to the front door. Miguel, the doorman, opens the front door and steps aside to allow her to shuffle through.

He looks up as Mrs. Bingham finally reaches him and smiles nodding to her. His smile is faker than mine, I scoff. As Mrs. Bingham disappears from sight, another man steps to the other side of the door, his back to me. The stranger is tall and lithe with sandy blonde hair. His ears are slightly pointed. Not enough that norms (humans) would notice but us supes (supernaturals) do. The other man resumes whatever conversation he and Miguel had been having before Mrs. Bingham’s presence interrupted them. Bits and pieces of it float my way, forcing me to stop in my tracks.

“No, I don’t know any woman who looks like that,” Miguel replies.

“You sure. She may be older?” the man asks.

“Nope. She cute. I would have remembered someone like that. She would have stood out to me,” Miguel responses.

‘Shit’, I silently curse. They could not have possibly found me so quickly. I’m just being paranoid. Maybe he is looking for a missing person. I try to convince myself as my steps become slow and measured.  

“Look again, Miguel,” the other man replies, handing a photo to my doorman.

Miguel takes the photo the man is holding and studies it. He starts to shake his head when he suddenly looks up and sees me. Then smiles. “Maybe our newest resident has seen your mystery woman,” I hear Miguel call out. The other man turns in profile and I freeze.

“Shit! Shit! Shit! They found me. Freaking SNOB detectives! Freaking fairies!” I murmur to myself. And before he can fully turn, I leap into the alley.

“Ma’am. Ma’am, stop. I have to ask you some questions!” the other man shouts.

“Oh no!” I call back over my shoulder as I pick up the pace down the alley to the next street over. Fortunately, it’s rush hour and the streets are packed with people leaving work or heading to happy hour. I blend into the crowd and keep my head down as the man skids to a halt on the sidewalk behind me. I hear him curse and pull out a cellphone.

“Yeah, it was her. Damn it! She ran,” the man says as he spins in a circle looking for me. With a heavy sigh, I cross the street taking my cell phone out of my purse. This time was supposed to be different. I want my money back.