The light bulb flared and went out, pitching the stairwell in darkness.
"Drat," the woman muttered, easing one toe over the first stair to insure her
footing.  She would have groped for the railing had her hands been free, but
as she was laden with a week's worth of groceries, that wasn't an option.
Instead, she took the stairs one step at a time, right foot always playing
vanguard to the more timid and less sure left.  Three-quarters of the way up
she felt something rub along her right calf and she let out a shriek.
"Mmmrrrow?"
"Dammit, Spooky! Don't DO that!"  She leaned against the wall to catch her
breath.
At the top of the stairs, a slash of light appeared as someone opened the
apartment door.  "Who dere?"
Finally breathing normally, the woman replied, "Just me.  Open that door some
more so I can see where I'm going."
"Why you not turned on da light?"
The woman bit back a nasty reply, and instead said, "The light's out again."
"Should buy better bulbs," the person at the top of the stairs commented,
opening the door more but standing in the light.  The woman did her best to
keep her temper in check and finished climbing the stairs.  She shoved her
way, none too gently, past the body in the doorway and stepped into the
apartment.
She was greeted by the cacophony of the TV and the radio, both at excruciating
volume levels.  One was blaring about the latest tragedy in the news, the
other was tuned to something that might have been country music were it not
for the static.  She wondered how someone could pay attention to both at the
same time without completely shucking sanity.  A cat entwined itself around
her ankles, purring and desiring attention.  She nudged it gently out of her
way and went to the kitchen.
"Anyone call for me?" she yelled back towards the door.
The door slammed. "No," came the reply.
She frowned.  "No one at all?"
"Not a damn soul, dincha hear me?"
Chewing her bottom lip, she channeled her frustration into putting the
groceries away.  Sure, it had cost a fortune, and would in theory feed them
for a week, but she knew better; most of it would be gone within two days, now
that he was out of work.  Again.
Her eyes shot to the phone.  Ring, she thought.  Ring and save me from this
hell.
The phone stubbornly refused to do her bidding.
"Mmrreeeow?"
"Yes, precious, I'll feed you," the woman bent to scratch a gray cat's ears,
then reached for its dish next to the sink.  She rinsed it out and placed
fresh food in it, kneeling to pet the cat while it devoured its meal.  Her
eyes glazed for a moment, remembering a time when she hadn't had to scrape for
money for meals, for housing... 
Her eye caught a frayed wire near the baseboard.
Curious, she followed it to its source: the telephone.
She stood and walked over to the wall phone, glaring yellow in the dingy
kitchen, and lifted the receiver.
Silence.
She white-knuckled the receiver before realizing what she was doing.  Then,
carefully, she replaced it to the hook.  A few deep breaths, then she traced
the wire again, from the phone to the baseboard and through the floor.  The
frayed part didn't look just worn out- someone had torn it out of the floor.
"Bring me a beer!"
The shout caused her to jump, and she hit her head on the counter overhang.
Swearing under her breath, she stood slowly, vision swimming for a moment,
then went to the doorway between the living room and the kitchen.
He looked up at her expectantly from his roots in the second-hand recliner
he'd hauled out of the dump one day.  "Beer?" he prompted.
"Of course no one called for me," the woman said calmly, "Since the phone
seems to be out of commission."
He blinked at her.  "Outta wut?"
She sneered. "Out. Of. Commission.  Not. In. Working. Order. Broken."  She
enunciated each word painfully.
"Didden pay the bill?" he suggested, eyes no longer meeting hers.
"I doubt a late bill would cause a technician to come out here and rip the
wire out of the floor," she said.  
"Neighbors," he grunted, satisfied with his own lame excuse.
"Our neighbors moved out months ago, they couldn't stand you," she said,
feeling brave.
His eyes shot up to meet hers again, smoldering beneath an alcohol glaze.  She
edged backwards a step, into the kitchen.  She saw his hands grip the arms of
the recliner, as if he were about to haul himself out of the chair with
effort.
She reached her breaking point.  "I can't stand you," she said.
Even before he moved, she had started backing farther into the kitchen.  She
blinked, and he was already out of the recliner, launched it seemed, flying
towards her yelling incoherently and frothing- she'd seen the act a thousand
times before, and a thousand times before she'd felt the impact and gone down
and been pummeled for what seemed like hours before he'd worn himself out or
realized she'd passed out...
A thousand times before.
But not this time.
He crossed the threshold to the kitchen, and was starting to make sense in his
howling- "How dare you you stupid bi-"- when she found the phone in her hands.
Not the receiver, but the whole phone, base and all, torn from the wall with
plaster bits falling around her feet.  He lunged at her, not seeing anything
but his own rage, and she calmly stepped to the side and brought the phone
around against his skull.
The phone made a satisfying "brrring-clunk".  His body made a softer noise as
it hit the linoleum.
She froze for a moment, staring at the inert form on the floor.  Slowly, a dry
smile crept across her face.  She dropped the phone on the body's back.
"Disconnected," she said, gathering the cat from its hiding place and leaving.



The Sunburst Project, Week 2
http://www.chaoseed.com/btr/sbp/
3/23/00