A dank chill crept in from the wet icy slush sprawled over the outside window ledge. It slithered through each gaping crack around the thin window panes, falling past the rusting radiator to the scuffed hardwood floor below. The icy phone chilled Jill's delicate fingers as she held the receiver to her ear.
"No, Mother, I'm fine." She struggled to force some indication of resolve into her weak voice. Awkwardly, she tugged with her other hand at the cuff of her thinning sweater sleeve, trying to stretch it far enough to keep her hand a little warmer.
She peered out at the street. The sky hung low and heavy with dark clouds blustering in rolling turmoil.
"But I do have a boyfriend," she insisted, the cracking in her voice betraying her even as she spoke the words. "His name's... Roger," she coughed a little to cover her hesitation. She stared emptily over at the large billboard hanging from the front of the dirty, crumbling brick face across from her apartment. The famous English spy character's face stared brazenly back, inviting her to the old film festival.
"Yes, I'm thinking he'll probably propose to me soon, Mom. He seems very serious right now." She nodded vaguely. Shrugging she plopped herself down on the tattered sofa. "Yes Mom, I see him all the time. He's practically here when I wake up in the mornings. And... I'm meeting him at the movies this weekend. That could be fun."
She managed a quiet sigh that went unnoticed.
"I'm going to be fine, Mom, you shouldn't worry about me." She listened absently to the distant voice over the line. "No, don't try setting me up with your friend's nephew - it wouldn't be fair to Roger."
Throwing her head back she grumbled softly to herself. "He has a steady government job, mother. Yes, he's very secure. I'm sorry, but I need to get to work, okay? Please, try not to worry about me. I've only been here a few months, but I'm already making a lot of friends. Sylvia lives just downstairs, and she hardly ever lets me come or go without stopping to chat with me. Sometimes it's even annoying."
She shrugged a few more times as she listened. "Okay, Mom, I promise I'll come home for Christmas, and I promise I'll bring Roger with me. Now, I have to go. Goodbye Mom. Yes, I love you too."
The phone rattled a little as she set the receiver down. She drew a deep breath. Letting it out painfully slow, she pushed herself up from the couch and grabbed her work uniform from the hanger on the cracked wall.
She gave no more than a vague glance at the curtains that lay tattered and thin on the floor next to the window. They still had the dry plaster dust on them that sifted out of the gaping screw holes in the wall from when the drapes fell.
Gritting her teeth she pulled her sweater off and dropped her ragged jeans to the floor beside her drooping bed. The icy chill dug in quickly and she hurried to get into her cheery uniform, complete with a cheesy ball cap.
She could see in the mirror how thin she'd gotten. She stood up straight to get a good look. She smiled warmly at her reflection. Its reciprocated smile didn't seem sincere.
Her freezing nipples were erect, poking through her bra, and she hastily pulled the orange shirt over her arms and fastened the buttons, brushing once more at the mustard stain still visible on the cuff. She snapped an unraveled thread from her coat before slipping her arms into it, throwing on her worn shoes, and rushing out the door.
She struggled for several minutes with the lock as she walked out into the hallway, jiggling the door and her key in a wearying attempt to get the lock to work. At last it clicked into place and she turned and jostled down along the stairs.
"Hey missy!" Sylvia cried out as Jill tried to timidly slide by her door unnoticed. "You remember that the rent is due on Tuesday, right?"
Jill nodded. "Yes, I know," she offered a forced smile. "That should be no problem, I promise."
"It better not be," Sylvia barked, stuffing a dangling cigarette between her yellowed teeth. "I don't like you tramps living here at all, but if you don't pay on time I have every right to kick your sorry ass out of this place."
Jill twisted her body around so she could nod and call back with a meek "No problem," as she skittered out the creaking apartment building doors.
She heard Sylvia muttering behind her. The words were muffled, but Jill knew her usual remark was "I know a damned crack whore when I see one."
The cold was brutal, ebbing in even harder as the sun fell behind the smoggy, dark horizon to the west where it was already long lost behind blackened silhouettes of decaying buildings. Jill pulled her coat tighter around herself, trying desperately to stay warm. She kept chanting to herself that it was only a few blocks to work. And the dining area was certainly wet and chilled, but always warmer than her apartment.
She shook the slush from her frozen feet as she slipped in the diner's back door. The kitchen noises slapped harshly at her with a screech of clattering dishes and sizzle of searing grease. She held her breath as she stuffed her purse into a locker, wishing she didn't have to breathe in the biting smells of raw onion that mixed so horridly with the stench of meat that had fallen behind and beneath the heavy equipment and left to rot.
But soon she wheezed out her last breath of clean air before slipping her coat off. She shivered, wishing she'd had time still to warm up before getting to work. She shoved her coat into her locker and tossed her shoulders back. Forcing herself to take in a deep breath she stepped slowly along the short row of lockers.
As she came to his she hesitated, listening. Everyone was busy in the kitchen, scurrying about like rats desperate to escape a prowling cat.
She put a shivering hand on the handle of his locker, uneasily peering out through the doorway.
No one was coming.
Her heart skipped a quick beat as she thought of the recent night she'd worked with him. She was pulling off her coat when she watched him open his locker.
She yanked hastily on the handle, swinging the door quickly open. She glanced once at the picture, then peeked up at the doorway. She gave the small poster of the topless girl another quick look, the slender woman's perky nipples proudly exposed, then hurriedly closed the door and slipped unnoticed out into the hall.
Her heart raced for several minutes while she grabbed nervously at her pad and pen. She tried to burn the image of the young woman's supple porcelain breasts and blush red nipples into her brain. She closed her eyes briefly to memorize the taunting curve of her back and the swaying of the girl's long blond hair. She would want to recall every detail as she lay in bed alone later. She swallowed back at the torment before skipping out onto the floor.
"Always skip when you first walk out into the dining room," Todd insisted as often as he found opportunity. "It perks up your spirits and lightens your mood. You'll get better tips that way, I promise."
He was the boss, so every night Jill gritted her teeth and skipped out into the dining area.
During company meetings his leering eyes would settle on her and rove about her body. His stare would wedge through his thick glasses and glue itself obstinately on her breasts, as covered as they might be. Jill did what she could to avoid having to talk with him.
"Excuse me," a tall older man waved his hand to capture her attention. Jill smiled sweetly at him, propped up her pad, and wriggled her body over to take his order.
