Dr. Norden wandered into the room, a piece of paper in his hand. He was reading as he walked, and nearly bumped into the table before correcting his course.
This wasn’t abnormal for the talented doctor. He was rarely without an article in front of his face, if he wasn’t with a patient.
“It isn’t fair,” Sandy agreed, ignoring the doctor. “But that’s how rich people are. They live in their own world, and don’t really care about the rest of us.”
“It’s so selfish,” said.
She heard Dr. Norden open the fridge and begin rustling through the contents.
Sandy leaned over her phone, reading. slumped over the table, dwelling on the selfishness of the man who was ruining her life.
“It says here that he’s staying at the Lotte Palace.”
“Of course he is,” said, her voice ripe with disgust as she pictured the fancy hotel that was only a stone’s throw from her apartment building. “He probably wants to keep an eye on Frank and make sure all of us lowly tenants are getting out of his new home.”
She walked by the Lotte every day on her way to work. “Maybe I’ll see him,” she said as she stood up. “And when I do, I’m going to give him a piece of my mind.”
She screwed the cap onto her shake as she moodily stalked to the doorway. She tossed it in the bin and it gave a satisfactory thunk as it hit the bottom.
“You go girl,” Sandy said. “Maybe we’ll see him at happy hour.”
Dr. Norden sat down at the table, placing his reading and sandwich down in front of him. “Happy hour?” he asked.
Shit, thought . I forgot to invite him.
“You guys going out tonight?” he asked.
“Yeah. Just us, Olivia and Dustin,” Sandy said, naming everyone that worked in the small office.
“Everyone but me,” Dr. Norden noted, pressing his lips together and nodding.
Sandy shot a look. “Yeah, weren’t you invited? , I thought…?”
groaned. She flipped her hair over her shoulder and squeezed her eyes shut. She scrunched her nose up. “I forgot,” she said. “Dr. Norden, I meant to tell you. I just had a lot on my mind and I—”
“You forgot,” Dr. Norden said. “You forgot about me. That’s okay.” He sounded glum, and his ‘poor me’ routine grated on ’s nerves. She had no sympathy for the doctor. She had enough on her mind.
Instead of playing into his antics, she turned on her heel. “I’ve got ten minutes left on my lunch break. I’m going to run out for a coffee. You guys want one?”
“Ooo! Get me a caramel macchiato,” Sandy ordered. Dr. Norden shook his head at the same time, biting into his sandwich.
“You can pay me back later,” said, waving her hand so that Sandy would stop digging through her purse for money.
“Extra caramel,” Sandy called out as left the staff room.
’s mind dwelled on the handsome man in the photographs. Why had he been so insistent on buying the very apartment that she lived in, if he was only going to tear it down?
Didn’t he care that people lived there, and had lives there? Didn’t he care that the building had historical value, and sentimental value?
Apparently, he did not.
When I see him, I’ll make him care, vowed. I’ll tell him about Mrs. Brewster, on the first floor. How she grew up in that building. Raised five boys, one of whom lives on the third floor now, with a family of his own.
She was used to seeing the Brewsters, three generations of them, traipsing up and down the narrow hallway with steaming casserole dishes or baskets of laundry, moving from one unit to the next as if they were moving between rooms of a house, not to an entirely different apartment.
I’ll tell him about Joshua, the paraplegic down the hall from me, who we all take turns visiting with. Not that it’s a sacrifice. Her times with the paraplegic, playing cards or watching a movie, taught her more about life than any other relationship in her life.
Joshua’s journey through life had instilled wisdom in him, and he shared it freely. knew she wasn’t the only one in the building who valued time with their friend.
He has no idea what he’s doing, thought. This Martin Cable.
She had managed to make it to Starbucks and stood in line now, tapping her foot angrily as she waited with impatience for the line to move forward. This Martin asshole I-need-this-building-more-than-you-do Cable.
“Martin!” a voice called out, causing ’s head to jerk upwards with curiosity. “Tall cappuccino for Martin C.!” the barista shouted.
watched a man stand up from a table in the crowded room.
She couldn’t see his face clearly as he wove through the crowds. As he made it to the counter and reached for his cup, she caught sight of his profile.
Her breath caught in her throat, and a hot flash passed over her body.
That’s him, she thought, anger swelling up inside of her. She immediately abandoned her place in line and began marching towards him.