Apt. no. 303

  The day started with crunch. Naomie looked down in dismay to see her alarm clock shattered on the carpeted floors that look like they'd witnessed the age of dinosaurs. How did it even get there? She had just given it a gentle tap. Maybe it was more of a rap. It was possibly a slap. Fine, she had punched it right off of the table.

   She stumbled into the kitchen to start the coffee. Almost out of filters again. It was time to go to the store, but somehow that kept getting put off.  Once her elixir of life was ready, she was a little more alert. An admonishing meow arose from behind her. She had forgotten to put out Lancelot's food, and he was not standing for it. Cats, she muttered under her breath. How did she end up with one of those mini tigers that passed for pets?

   After Lance had been served, she winded through the hallways to get to Bubba's room. Books jutted out from all sides as if the hallway was some strange well-read cave with stalactites and sharp rock threatening every step. As she narrowly avoided a catastrophe involving Mr. Darcy, Scout Finch, and Jay Gatsby, she once again considered straightening up a little, but decided that was best saved for another time.

   She took the last step into Bubba's room without registering the creak of the final hallway floorboard as it protested her presence. Within the room, she heard the soft beep beep beep of the heart monitor as if it was saying yes, everything was in working order--for now. The blinds let in the light in a rather disorienting fashion. Among the zebra-like slats of sun, she could see her grandmother's face, peaceful in its slumber, the etches telling the story of her life. After checking all her vitals, Naomie decided to let her grandmother sleep. After all, that's what she wished she was doing.

   Walking back into the kitchen, she grabbed a yogurt from the gurgling fridge, and checked the calendar to make sure that a nurse was on the schedule to care for Bubba today. Satisfied that she had covered all of her bases, she navigated her way to the bedroom. She threw on her uniform and grabbed her bag. At the front door, she performed the series of rituals necessary to open the ancient door. After slamming her body against the it two times, abracadabra, it opened. Naomie closed the door behind her and glanced over her shoulder at the crooked three shining against the worn out wood. It wasn't much, but it was home.