Retreat

It rained again today. It's been raining all week, a variation of drizzle and torrential downpours--always just enough to keep me indoors. I haven't been able to go on my daily walk, so today I decided I'd travel only as far as the lobby. I thought I might watch the residents come and go. What an interesting experience that turned out to be. The first man I saw on my journey appeared a bit tipsy. He didn't quite have his costume on right. To tell you the truth, I wasn't really sure why he was dressed up like that. It's not like it's Halloween. Of course before I had time to ponder that further, an even odder woman marched by. I couldn't tell you what she looked like, other than I caught a whiff of death seeping from her bag. As my mother used to say, she gave me the heeby-jeebies. It was like she'd crawled up from the Underworld, the way she felt to me. My mama always said I had a sort of sixth sense about these things. Maybe that woman works in a morgue or in a cemetary. Whatever she does, it's something disgusting, something sub-human, something no Wainwright would ever so much as acknowledge. And I didn't. I turned up my nose, wrinkled because of the stench, and ignored her. And as soon as she was safely out of sight, I took the elevator back to my floor to make a strong cup of camomile tea. Soothes the soul, my mother used to say.