Page 6 of Mania

“Very well then,” he responds as he stands up. “Your shift begins at midnight.”

He leaves the sitting area with barely another glance my way, the sweet tea untouched and sweating on the table between us.

Chapter 4

Mr. Ambrose

The smoke curlsaround my fingers, the untouched ash from my cigarette threatening to fall to the cement of the balcony floor. I lean forward to stub it in the ashtray, the ash falling with the movement anyway. Settling back in the wicker chair, I watch the sky turn from blue to orange then red as the sun sets over the forest.

Earlier this morning?

In the graveyard?

Her questions have been replaying in my head for the past hour. I have no recollection. As far as I know, I was in my office all morning.

Time.

It’s slipping through my fingers.

My grasp waning and loosening on the reigns of time with every year lost.

How did she end up here?

With her ripped jeans shorts and mismatched tattoos asking for a job.

She doesn’t belong here.

I should tell her to leave. I should make her pack her bags and have her check out immediately.

But then I recall the look in her brown eyes when I sat facing her in the lobby.

She tried to hide it. But I knew that look all too well.

A lost soul. Eager to find its place.

It moved me. Something inside of me stirred. A dormant longing I hadn’t experienced in years. She reminded me of myself a long, long time ago.

And so I offered her a job.

My chest twinges with regret.

“Beautiful evening we’re having aren’t we, Mr. Ambrose?”

The voice pulls me out of my thoughts.

“If you don’t mind the heat,” I respond to the teenager standing on the balcony next to mine. He is bare-chested, only wearing swim trunks with a towel wrapped around his neck. Leaning his hands against the guardrail, his attention is somewhere in the distance.

Then he smiles, blue eyes sparkling as he looks over to me. “Perfect time for a swim then,” he says.

I muffle a small sigh and smile. The conversation is always the same.

The pool has been closed for years.

“Perfect time for a swim,” I repeat.

He gives me a small salute and walks back inside.

The grandfather clockrings at the stroke of midnight as I stroll through the lobby, my hands clasped behind my back.

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