Mrs. Marcinka Climbs the Stairs
Mrs. Marcinka stands in a beam of sunlight coming through the large window in the stairwell landing between the fourth and fifth floors.
Wide-eyed and slack-jawed she stares at the door at the top of the stairs. She tries to remember why she is standing here, but can't. It doesn't disturb her though -- her memory had become so unreliable lately -- she was accustomed to these lapses. In fact, the thing she remembered most from the past several days was a vague sense of unease, as if there was always someone else was in the room with her. It was worse at night, and the lack of sleep only sharpened her nervousness. On the rare occasions when she did manage to sleep, it was a quick nap during the day, usually when it rained. Her dreams were always the same -- Isabelle was sitting in a chair a few feet away, watching her sleep. She didn't say or do anything, just sat there, watching calmly. When Mrs. Marcinka woke she would look at the chair where Isabelle had been in the dream. It was empty, of course. Every time. But, M wasn't satisfied and, even though she was fully awake, she would search the apartment looking for that girly...Isabelle. 'She had to be here', M would think. 'I don't remember letting her in the apartment, but she's here'. M would approach a closed door and hesitate before turning the knob. What would she say to Isabelle? M would rehearse some stilted dialogue, then open the door, wearing a false expression. 'Oh. There you are, Izzy', M was ready to say. The room would be empty and it always came as a surprise. M was so sure, she had been so sure...
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