Authors Note: This series of short stories are intended to be episodic and thus can be read alone. Any feedback, criticisms or improvements are always welcome. The author also invites reader suggestions about what they would like to see Xanthe do next.
It was getting close to dinner time, the night dark and overcast, a constant drizzle falling all around Xanthe as she ducked out of the bus and into the open. Her business suit and four overloaded grocery bags were all that protected her from the rain as it dampened not only her body, but her mood.
Work had been particularly hectic that day. She had to stay behind to pick up after two of her colleagues called in sick and left her with an urgent file which needed to be handled. She almost had to run from the office to the small grocery store near the subway and do her weeks shopping or she would have gone hungry. Weighed down by the heavy brown paper bags she then rushed through the rain to catch the bus for the short ride back to her apartment.
By the time Xanthe had crossed the busy main road in front of her apartment building she was well and truly drenched. Her normally fiery red hair was matted and stuck down against her scalp. Her suit seemed to absorb every drop of water that came into contact with it. The grocery bags were saturated and looked ready to give way sending their contents scattering across the pavement.
Xanthe finally managed to dig out her keys and bypass the security entrance at the ground floor lobby to her building. She wrestled the groceries across the brightly lit, sparsely decorated lobby and into the elevator which waited on the ground floor.
She took a deep breath as the doors shut and the elevator began to scrape into motion taking her to the sixth floor. She looked into the mirrored finish on the back of the elevator door and noticed her reflection. Her drenched short hair sat limply on the top of her head. The tiny hint of makeup she had put on in the morning had long since washed off or worn away. A few droplets of water worked their way down her thin pale face and collected on her chin, forcing her to rub it against her damp shoulder.
The elevator door chimed as it gradually opened and let her out onto her floor. Xanthe looked attentively at her grocery bags fearing they were about to burst at the seams. Her sinewy legs glided across the carpeted hallway, around the corner and to her familiar door. A plain silver number nine was all that showed to the outside world.
Xanthe sucked in a few deep breaths, just catching her breath from her frantic journey home and brief run across the road. She let her keys jingle as she tried to shake them into their proper order, looking for the correct one by feel rather than by sight, the shopping bags obstructing her view of her hand and the doorknob.
Xanthe jammed the wrong key into the slot and swore quietly into the vacant hall. Her fingers nimbly found what she thought was the correct key. Just as she was about to try the door again one of the bags under her left arm gave way sending her groceries tumbling across the floor slamming against the wall with a dull thud.
Xanthe tried biting her tongue but could not help herself. She stared up at the ceiling and grit her teeth, swearing out loud in an effort to relieve some of the frustration. She scanned the floor seeing the bag’s contents strewn about. She cursed again at the thought of having to clean up the mess when all she wanted to do was lie down and have a relaxing drink.
As Xanthe struggled with her keys and stepped around a jar resting near her feet she sensed a shadow cast itself over her. She stopped what she was doing, the fine hairs on the back of her neck beginning to rise. The shadow grew larger and Xanthe froze not sure exactly what to do, still half believing she was alone.
“Hey there, do you need a hand?”
A female voice carried over her left shoulder. The voice didn’t immediately register with Xanthe as being one familiar to her. It certainly could not be either of her male neighbors. Xanthe suddenly remembered that her neighbor in number ten had moved out last week and a new person had bought the apartment. Could this be that new person?
Xanthe turned tentatively, shuffling the bags still in her arms. She cast her eyes upon a trim figured woman of average height. She had dark shoulder length hair and soft features, her dark eyes immediately caught Xanthe’s attention with their deep ponderous gaze. The woman calmly crouched down and retrieved a jar which sat near her feet.
“Looks like you could use a hand,” she repeated, nodding towards the closed door and stepping closer.
“Uhhh, yeah if you wouldn’t mind,” Xanthe replied politely. She dangled the keys from her hand and the woman reached out and took them from her, their fingers making momentary contact.
Xanthe gazed at the woman as she fed the key into the door, standing only inches away from her. She was wearing an old worn out pair of overalls slung over a plain white t-shirt. She had cream colored paint splashed over the front of her overalls and spotted across her fingers and forearms. Xanthe concluded that she must have been renovating her new apartment.
“There you go,” the woman happily reported turning to smile gleefully at Xanthe as the door swung open. The woman then reached down to fetch some of the groceries which had spilled at Xanthe’s feet. Xanthe caught a glimpse of her firm buttocks as they strained against the dirty overalls. Xanthe knew she should not have been looking at her new neighbor but found she could not help herself.
“Thanks for that,” Xanthe said with an equally cheery voice, she stepped inside the door and sat the bags down against the wall immediately beside the entrance. Her new neighbor stood respectfully at the door not wanting to enter uninvited. Xanthe noticed her looking around as she turned back to face her. “It’s been one of those days hey. My name is Xanthe.”
“Hi Xanthe, my name is Linda, I’ve just moved in down the hall in number ten, so I guess we’re going to be neighbors,” greeted Linda.
“I see you’ve been renovating,” replied Xanthe making small talk and trying to show some interest in her neighbor. She was still undecided whether she really wanted to entertain someone this late in the night, or just relax in solitude. “Must be busy,” she quipped with a nod in the direction of Linda’s apartment.
“Oh yeah, I’m redoing the entire apartment, top to bottom,” she smiled. Xanthe was again trapped by her dark ponderous eyes, a captivating feature which seemed to enslave her attention. “I’ve been working in there since I arrived this morning, it’s a disaster, I’m living out of moving boxes while I’m doing it all.”
