Giving my watch another once-over, I twist the crown for the hell of it. I stop and blink once in disbelief because the hands are now rotating as if nothing happened. What the hell?
I start walking again and pull my phone from my pocket to check the time because I legit think I’m going insane. Tapping the screen, it reads 9:24. Until now, I’ve never had issues with my watch. I need to send it to get fixed and forget about this nonsense.
I may be rushing, but since when is that a crime? I slow, wondering why I’m getting dirty looks. “What?” I ask, throwing my arms out and staring down a man who raises his nose in disgust.
An older woman behind me pinches her nose. “You smell like shit, young fellow.”
Oh shit. I look down, remembering the dog doo smeared across my nice white shirt. I shake my head. It’s gross, but the world will survive, although I’m thinking my shirt won’t.
I’m already making quite the impression in my first few weeks in the city. I could be mad, but I’m not that bothered by people avoiding my personal space, to be honest. Straightening my shoulders, I walk like I don’t give a shit or have it on me.
But then I hear a familiar bark and turn back. The woman from the park rushes toward the nearest shop as if I didn’t just bust her for following me. “What are you doing?” I ask. “Are you stalking me?” I might be jumping ahead of myself, but better to settle it now. A lot of weird stuff was happening at the park. Is she to blame?
Despite Rascal’s joy to see me, obstinance stiffens her shoulders, and she scoffs. “You wish.” Her hand flies out. “It just so happens that I’m walking in the same direction. So what?”
“Defensive,” I reply, analyzing her body language. Crossed arms. Straight line across her lips. Half-mast eyelids as she glares at me.
“I’m not defensive. I’m offended. You just called me a stalker.”
“My bad.”
“You’re bad, all right.” She angles her chin up, and adds, “You can go about your day now.”
I’m tempted to chuckle, but I’m thinking it’s wise to restrain myself. “I will. Good day.”
“Good day, sir,” she says to my back as I walk away.
I stop again, but this time, I don’t look back. Forcing myself to walk forward, I continue through the upscale neighborhood to the next block. I busy my attention on the architecture until I hear Rascal bark again.
I knew I shouldn’t have talked to a stranger. She may be hot, but she could also be deranged, using her dog as a ploy to trick her next victim to her lair. What am I even talking about?
When I turn back this time, she sidles quickly up to a coffee shop window, pretending to know the people sitting on the other side.
By how they turn their backs to her, they don’t reciprocate. “Nice try,” I tease.
Glancing at me, she huffs. “I’m walking in the same direction. It’s no big deal, for God’s sake.” She punctuates the words with an epic eye roll as if I’m putting her out. Huffing, she grabs Rascal, clutching him to her side.
“His feet have—”
“Shit.”
“Exactly.”
Anger fills her chest, and she shakes her head, exhaling it loudly with a foot stomp. “Ugh! I’ll go this way.”
As. If. I’m the nuisance.
Me?
Why am I even sticking around to have this conversation? Why am I bothering? Going in different directions—that’s us. She crosses the street, and I turn the corner, both of us heading back to our own lives and hopefully never seeing each other again.
I continue toward the building up ahead alone. I’m good. I’m fine. Alone is how I thrive. I’ll be here a year or two. That’s nothing. I have plenty of work to keep me busy.
Work.
I’m here for work. That’s it. I have a plan in place, and nothing and no one will keep me from achieving my goals. I’ll go in, change my shirt, and get to the office.
The doorman opens the door for me and nods. “Welcome home, Mr. Christiansen.”
“Thanks, Gil.” When he coughs, turning his head away from me, I ask, “Is it worth noting I’ve had a shitty morning?”
“It was noted the moment right before you arrived.”
Funny guy.
2
Juniper “Juni” Jacobs
It’s not the first time I’ve been called a stalker . . .
New York has changed. Apparently, I can’t walk in the same direction as somebody else without people assuming I’m following them home. Despite how sullen the guy at the park was, I’m not letting his mood taint mine.
As I look out the window, the Manhattan streets are busy below, but the sun is shining above. It’s a beautiful spring day, and I need to make the most of it.
After giving Rascal a bath, I blow-dried his hair before returning him to his owner, Mr. Clark. I turn up the music and finish getting ready, feeling good after my shower and hoping I’ve successfully gotten rid of the smell.
Walking around the apartment, I gather my stuff.
A book to pass the time if I have to wait.
Stationery and pen to take notes.
Snack. I scribble an S on the end. A single snack would be a flat-out lie.
Wallet.
Charger.
Phone.
Mints.
I’m traveling light, except for the nonfiction book I’m bringing with me. Sometimes, these meetings take ten minutes, and sometimes, I’m left waiting for two hours. I feel better prepared. I swing the straps of my bag over my shoulder and grab my bottle of water on the way out the door.
Sixteen flights down, I enter the lobby and am greeted with a warm grin. “Good afternoon, kiddo.”
“Hi, Gil. How are you today?”
Standing, he comes around from his desk to get the door. He once told me I’d put him out of business if I kept beating him to it. I glance at the camera hanging in the top left corner that’s filming our every move and slow my pace to let Gil catch up. He’s not as fast as he used to be. He replies, “It’s a beautiful day, and the Yankees are up.”
“What inning?”
“Fifth.”
Just outside the building, I slide my sunglasses over my eyes while still under the protection of the awning. “We’ll take it.”
“Darn right, we will. Where’re you off to?”
Turning, I walk backward a few steps. “I have a meeting with the agency.”
“Good luck, Juni.”
“Thanks.” Turning back, I wave over my head. “Have a great day!”
“You too.”
Down one block, I push into the coffee shop and stand in line. My morning should have been more easygoing, but I've lost some steam after that encounter in the park. Chasing a dog who loves to escape more than Houdini was the workout I didn’t see coming.
Looking at the daily specials, I decide I’m not in the mood for anything but my usual, finding comfort in the familiar. It’s not a phrase I live by, but I remember hearing my grandmother telling me that, her voice a faint memory these days. The tears had stung as they rolled over my skin, but the warmth of my mom’s favorite sweater and the comfort of my grandmother’s hug made it better. At least that night.