There was nothing unique about this polluted grey night. It was the dusk of morning and the rising orange looked trapped behind a translucent black; the world looked so alone despite the universe surrounding it. A fungal toenail was in the sky the exact size of her thumbnail. Percy often lingered in the last nightly hours; insomnia and complacency causes this: wandering up and down her street, teetering at the block where her home vanishes and appears. She moved to the big city and chased all of her dreams, but no one told her more dreams would come after achieving those, vague dreams without a physical manifestation; dreams of thoughts and emotions never landing outside of her mind. Everyone gets a clear dream as a child when the world seems vast, but when adulthood is your reality and the world becomes an oyster on a wooden pedestal, dreams sludge into incomprehensibility. What do I want, Percy wondered often. She settled for the childish and mundane instead of answering the question, so she roamed in the night and balanced on the brick wall isolating the townhouses’ backyard.  

Usually, Percy treads the wall until her body stumbles from exhaustion, and even then, continues until there’s a nick, cut, or bruise. Ms. Taffy or just Taffy spots her sometimes and insists she has morning tea with her; Taffy lives alone since her husband died last fall and she won’t adopt a cat because she thinks she’ll join him any day now. However, tonight Percy didn’t tread the wall long enough to see if Taffy was up nor did she stumble. Percy saw a person parallel to her, a frame with long oily hair separated from the darkened body by its sheen. As she climbed down from the wall onto the pavement, the figure’s head tilted and a narrow-pointed chin followed her descent. Percy placed her palms against the brick, kept her eyes on it, and began to creep back down the street.

It didn’t move, it watched her go home while the sun awakened the sky into a lilac tone, warming the cold.

Percy fumbled with the dead bolt on her door before throwing her back against the spotted wildflower wallpaper and sliding to the floor. She stared at her chamomile green carpet, meant to match the wallpaper, because what had she seen or what does she think she saw… a mass of essentially nothing? She crawled to the loveseat and pulled one of the fringed throw pillows to the floor. Beneath the loveseat and staring at her curtained window, Percy fell deeply asleep and could not hear the alarm clock upstairs.

“If it would have been me, Gary would have chewed me out.” Julia explained again at lunch in the park about Percy’s impromptu off day. They worked at a small press, both journalists in the health department but Julia wrote the After Menopause column despite her being premenopausal. Gary claims she’s wise beyond her years but he’s just an ageist—what if they die in the office? Is it now haunted? were the words that came from his mouth. Percy at least looked like her column, Women’s Fitness, though she never wanted to write about fitness. Once Gary saw her, she was his Amazonian queen; Percy is genetically blessed like her mother and they both played volleyball in college to further their education. She knows how odd it looks for her to eat tacos on a park bench with Julia because people have told her or worse, stared.

“You must sleep more, try melatonin and tea before bed. I read in our competitor’s magazine that a lack of sleep takes years off your life,” Julia’s tone changed and then changed back, talking to Percy then herself, “I keep some melatonin in my purse but you can have it when we get back to the office.”

“Persephone doesn’t need to change anything about herself,” Connor assuredly proclaimed as he swung a metal chair towards them with one hand and held his combo meal with the other. He sat with his chest on the metal bars meant for the back and rocked on its hindlegs. “I don’t understand why people can’t love the way they are made. Is it not lovely to be yourself?”

“Melatonin, Connor. Not melanin.” Julia rolled her eyes and stated again, “I don’t know how you managed to get and keep a job.”

“And the world may never know.” Connor majored in philosophy and persuaded Gary it is an umbrella term containing psychology, sociology, and social relations. Now he’s the Editor of the men’s portion of the press. It also helped that Connor is conventionally attractive unlike Gary; he was an athlete in college and lived abroad and believes it taught him more than the Master’s degree never received.

“It doesn’t count if you were raised there!”

“Yes, it does. Either way I have visited multiple countries and gained multiple perspectives,” he said. A fry flopping in his fingers at every syllable.

“You stayed with your mom, Connor! If you would have gone to Asia then it would count or even the U.K. Percy what do you think?”

“Yes, Percy?” The legs of his chairs scraped the concrete as he swiveled to face her, “When you go to Africa to visit family, do you count it as common knowledge or foreign knowledge?”

“I’d say common Connor, only because most of my family migrated to South Africa, abandoned our heritage, and became modern. When I visit, I do the same things there I do here.”

“Hog bath—wash! Hog wash!” Connor contended. Julia placed her hand on her forehand. They were coworkers and despite their jovial arguments, Percy wasn’t fully present; she gazed into the circumcised trees bound to the appointed park, beyond the leaves and singing bluebirds into the gaps of blackness, minced nothingness, after the greenery and before the skyline of buildings.

The press occupied the first and second floor of a dated brick building without insulation. The Women’s department was on the ground level to give the men an excuse to drop by before taking the stairs to their floor. The editor had an office while everyone else was cubicled in the spacious floor plan; the second-best thing was a window spot far from the front door but not by the bathroom or kitchenette. Everyone blamed the cubicle near the fridge for missing food though it was an ongoing issue and that cubicle was for temps. Percy had the second-best of the second-world within work due to Julia’s curious personality, insisting she needs to be by the entrance. Gary didn’t mind; he removed the receptionist role and inched the cubicles closer. Also, Percy was the only woman who didn’t complain about the breezy walls or claim she needed a space heater so the corner cubicle was hers by default. This week she was writing steps to fend off dehydration while exercising in the summer heat.

“Queen,” The sound made her eyes roll and attempt to stay back there. She craned her neck from behind the plastic divider, just enough for her pupils to see over it. Her hand scrambled the desk to find her stress ball. “there’s a Health Convention happening next week and I need you to attend for research. We need to know the latest trends.”

“Gary,” she breathed, “there are dozens of women on this floor. Are you telling me none of them want to spend a day outside of the office?”

“They might want to, but I want you to spend a day outside.” He placed his arms on the flimsy divider causing it to bend and whoosh audibly. Leaning in, he whispered, “the convention is in East Harlem. I love Harlem. You love Harlem, but some people would consider working there as endangerment. I know they’re ignorant. You know they’re ignorant but I don’t feel like getting into those politics. Julia said she will go if you go. Think of it as a Girls Trip. Okay, good. I’ll buy your lunch. You’re amazing, Queen.” He shot winks at her like bullets as he walked away.

Because the kitchenette was 20 panels of checkered tile, Percy ate lunch at the end of the workday. She waved the women out of the building and sunk in her chair as the men trampled down the steps. The surrounding windows were tinted so unless a passerby stopped and primped themselves excessively, they did not see her figure. A few times, men have seen because the window is the last reflective surface before they go to the bar across the street for happy hour; they roll up their long sleeves and practice a few smiles but its during the exhausted exhale when the two-toned glass begins to make sense. A shiver runs up their spine and they cross the street hurriedly. Percy watches the men fill the bar in their company vests, the insignia like a beacon and badge to join the huddle, with their modern haircut: a little on top and low sides. The show went on until a dark glimmer formed in the glass and grew, and continued to grow into a form behind her. She wanted to see and spun her chair as if she would catch a ghost.

“Connor! What are you still doing here?” The adrenaline hid the disappointment in her voice. He shook a ring of keys and had begun clicking off the overhead lights behind him.

“My day to lock up. Thank goodness I actually check the building. Should we go?” His question was spoken with deep concernment; he helped her pack up and not forget anything. Connor lived in the financial district near the press so he found himself walking many people home to get distance from the back-and-forth routine of his life.

“You don’t want to catch happy hour at McNally’s? Two for one.” Percy chuckled.

“I’ll catch the next one, tomorrow. Have you been alright?”

“I am fine.” A response followed by silence until they arrived at the subway station. As she transferred her bag onto her shoulder, she reluctantly asked him, “do you ever—do you feel someone’s watching you?”

“Right now?” Connor scanned the area and made eye contact with a few commuters who won’t remember they even looked at him. “No one cares about me.”

“No, not like—” Percy shook her head and began to push the thought away from her with her hands but he wanted to know. They moved aside, away from the entrance of the station as if people might stop and listen if they are heard. “Like a debt. I know it sounds weird but I feel like I owe someone…money.”

“Do you need money?”

“No, I don’t think so. It’s an indescribable feeling.”

“Okay,” Connor nodded thoughtfully. He rubbed his chin and snapped, “would you like to get dinner and talk?” He slowly reached for her bag as a form of agreeance and slung it around his neck. They walked up the avenue to a hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurant used by the press for announcements and promotions. Tony, the owner, recognized them immediately and asked if Gary would consider giving local businesses a discount on ads. Their booth had a wonderful view of the sky during sunset; Percy couldn’t help raising her plate into the frame of the windowed sunset and taking a glamorous picture of spaghetti and meatballs. Tony saw her and said he’d take a picture of them.

“Move your hair to the right,” Persephone shifted her head further over for the heap of curls to unblock Connor’s face. “To the right!” Persephone shifted to the left. Connor scooted to the right. “Too far come closer. Not you! Yes you, Connor!” In his frustration, Connor stood up and squatted next to Percy instead, placing his head against her arm. “I took a few.”

Tony passed the camera to the two journalists and rushed through the silver double doors to take out the complimentary breadsticks. He took a screen’s worth of pictures, capturing the confusion of directions, headless body out of frame, and a single picture of their last pose. Connor asked her to text him the photos; he’s trying to become one of those people who frame pictures.

“Sure,”

“Are you going to do it?” He responded to her slurred response; he wasn’t sure what the tone implied.

“I will. I swear.” She replied in the same dead tone as she looked at her phone in a daze. He resumed eating the fettucine bread bowl and the butter Tony rolled on the bread in the back begin to waft into the dining area. The sun had set quickly and the yellow-toned streetlamps warped the midnight sky. Exposed lightbulbs hung in the restaurant above each table and Percy would usually ask Tony to dim their light because of her astigmatism, but she only glared at her phone. The single picture of Connor resting his head on her arm and having the frustration melt away, other customers gazed lovingly at them, some caught in their open-mouthed laughter, and the sky had a sliver of purple hanging onto the rim of the window, but the window with Tony’s name arched in a cursive font has a two-toned shadow though it’s not two-toned. As she squints and zooms into the picture, is it a figure and is it looking in?

“Percy, did you hear what I said?” Connor enunciated and tapped his fingers against her ceramic bowl.

“Yes.”

Uptown trains to Harlem are spacious during rush hour; the people are distinguishable in their seats, eating their cream cheese with a bagel, reading the latest book, or at least staring at it to avoid eye contact. Percy read the advertisements plastered above the train stops over and over until the words became symbols and they looked like they were spelled wrong. Then she became conscious of her hand flipping the press-provided MetroCard for a roundtrip. Julia is going to meet her there. Her mother called last night to ask if she likes the city again. Percy does, deep down. She likes most places including the mountains and forests and small towns. It is all wonderfully made.

Before her stop, Percy stood to fix her blouse and stretch her toes in her leather booties; two ladies rushed to take her seats and smiled at her with pursed lips. The convention was on the outskirts of Harlem near a Whole Foods and hosted in a seasonal Black art studio. The building was intimate. She walked past the double doors mounted open and the tables and posters were set up in an intervention circle. She walked past again to look for Julia.

“Where are you?” Percy whispered behind the door.

“In the Whole Foods with Connor. We’re getting breakfast.” She said so matter-of-factly and when Percy joined them it was like lunch in the park. They bought her a plate as well on Gary’s dime. “Thank goodness for this local treasure. I’ve been in here for two hours.”

“We agreed to meet up at ten.” Percy began stacking the carbs on her fork: waffle, hash, French toast and sugared bacon garnish.

“I know but I just knew it would be an extensive place. It felt like a sacrifice and I was the lamb; the women hoarded me. I got brochures, thermoses, wristbands, the whole shebang.” She lifted a drawstring bag onto the fourth corner of the table and shook it. As she scourged the bag to exhibit the items, Percy struck her plate violently to spear the rolling meats. Her syrup-soaked waffle flopped when Connor flung another bag up.

“Connor made you a bag too.” Julia captioned while rotating her APEXX thermos, 40 ounces. Percy opened her bag to see her own and pulled out a silver insulated 30 ounce which then Connor slipped from her hand and placed in the far corner of the table.

“That’s for me, I didn’t want one as big as Julia’s.” And Percy’s contention was shushed with the same breath blown on his coffee. “Let’s go to the park before lunch. Yeah? Yes.”

The remains of their breakfast were tossed in a cardboard to-go box, tossed like a salad, and picked from as they entered Central Park’s grandiosity. The top of the park is deep and isolating; there are other people hiding from the city in there. Connor walks intentionally slow, lifting his leg high and fully bending the knee. They looked at the trees from root to where the bird’s nest and were silent. A group of men who must’ve taken the day off together played pickleball in a lawn. Our three journalists startled them, and they looked as if they had been caught worshipping an idol. They stopped in their tracks, whoever had the ball cupped it in their palm, and perhaps they resumed when they passed.

Julia walked in the middle. She was the shortest of the three, a modern 5’5 woman, and preferred to stay on the gravel path etched out or near the Bethesda Terrace. By linking her arms in theirs, Julia kept Connor out of the grass. Percy didn’t need to be pulled, she ate and gazed at the beauty revealed by the sunlight. Eventually though, she finished the meal and locked eyes with Connor who was waiting. He spotted a wonderful grassy lawn to play in and pulled at Julia’s link; she dug her feet into the gravel and trailed her resistance. Percy heaved her forward once, only once was needed for Julia to admit defeat and shuffle into the lawn.

The summer wind was a funnel carrying monarch butterflies higher than they like to fly for them to see and cherish. Squirrels worked hard and wondered what these humans want, hoping they don’t eat nuts. At least they know Percy does not, she tosses the hulls elsewhere to make a comfortable bed of grass. Connor hopped on one foot while taking off the other shoe and sock, rushing with adrenaline. He skipped in a circle like he was testing out the grass and it pleased him. His boyish haircut got into his eyes when he would play. After two laps, he searched for where he’d thrown his shoes, picked them up by their leather tongue, and carried them to Percy’s seat beneath an oak tree. She found her role essential because Julia was treading the outskirt talking to her mother on the phone. Connor gently placed them to her left and began cuffing his pants up his shins and when he finished, he smoothed the pants repeatedly. Percy watched until monotonous and looked at his face to see he had been waiting for her.

Connor squatted and looked at her boots’ sides for a fastening. Slowly he unzipped and pulled them off, saw she wore white socks today, Hanes. Her shoes were placed near his, both large and in the double digits. He palmed his knees to aid his stand and went back to his frolicking. Percy never stood up but she decided to take off her socks. Her toes shimmied the grass between them.

The convention produced a column about the Keto diet and essential oils curing arthritis. Gary was livid in a good way, he explained; he was trying to “slang a word” or “coin a term.” However, they still needed to come to work; Julia became the full-time receptionist for the week, taking all calls and redirecting them to the appropriate department, signing for packages, and smiling at everyone coming in. She stopped Brian on his way to the second floor and asked to see his badge. He attempted to whip it out while walking but quickly realized it wasn’t in his left pocket or right so he checked the exposed zippers of his backpack and began to worry.

“Brian,” Julia called to the man gripping the strap of his water bottle between his teeth, “You dropped it yesterday outside of the building and you’re lucky I saw it.” He swayed over to her cubicle, threw his head over the side, and plucked it off her finger and surely gave her a thank you, heaven bid adieu.

“He is such a man-whore, Percy. Percy!” Julia whistled to wake the fitness columnist face-down asleep in her cubby to not flatten her hair. The black cloud sprung into the office air like a cartoon’s high noon. “I don’t know why I even pay him attention. That’s the only reason he comes to work. I bet he just roams the second floor all day bothering people.”

“Gary? Does he need something else done?” Percy guessed while pulling eyelashes out.

“Eww no. Brian! I’ve been to that second floor and they lack decorum. All day they throw foam basketballs around and talk about the game last night. There is always a game that was on last night!” Julia continued her disdain until her lunch hour, finally leaving the press for her Caesar Salad at Tony’s.

After Gary went home for the day, so did Percy. She packed her bag, rerouted her calls to her cell and left hastily. It was a thirty-minute walk home to the Lower East Side and since it was a beautiful day, forty minutes. No matter the day or hour, people always looked like commuters commuting; dog walkers were hastily trying to get the animals home, the homeless needed to cross this street and the street after that, even people in restaurants needed to hurry. Where was everyone going and why did it feel like no one ever made it there? She shook the thoughts out of her head and promised herself to stop being philosophical outdoors and start making it home in twenty-five minutes flat. Because the sooner she makes it home, the sooner the façade falls. Percy refuses to do anything amazing after work except use Alexa to click on the lights and television at the same time. If she could, Alexa would also heat up the microwave meal and bring it to Percy on the couch. Right there the rest of the day drains away, sometimes it’s a new episode or breaking news or a movie, but Percy is usually there until nightfall.

“I’m coming!” She had to yell at the maniac beatboxing on her door this evening though. Angrily she shuffled to the door and swung it open with enough momentum to vacuum air into her face.

“It’s five o’clock. Why are you in pajamas? You left work early,” he communicated and shimmied past her dense body into the home. “You know if you eat enough of this stuff, it’ll kill you.” He picked up the black plastic tray, shook the sweating wrap still attached at two corners, and dropped it back onto the foldable tv dinner tray.

“I will keep that in mind, Connor. Truly thank you. What do you want?”

“Today is Friday. People celebrate on Friday. Let’s be like people.” Two of his fingers walked up invisible steps and Percy followed suite to change for their impulsive night out.

They met in the press two years ago after she finished graduate studies: a conglomeration of credits from various colleges within the city. There was a job fair which led to an interview and to a corner cubby. Connor counts their first meet at the job fair but Percy doesn’t remember seeing him there, probably because of Gary’s desperate plead. The press wasn’t much then or now, the only difference is the angel investor who came aboard and turned everyone’s internship into a full-time job. Connor and Percy are close without definition or time. They were, they are, they will be close. The fluidity of their relationship is based on necessity and right now they need a friend.

Connor loves Coney Island unlike most residents. He claims it is Neon-Mecca and unlike Times Square, the ocean breeze drives the electrical steam away. Percy thinks he’s a liar and cares for the access to fair treats. They walk the boardwalk and though they look at the mechanical rides, neither wants to get on them. There’s a sand dune that creeps up the side of the board so they creep down it and sit in overlapping residual pink light from a mega-sized candy shop. Ocean waves muddle the sounds of people walking above them. He leans into her and slightly behind just if she wants to lean back. The water doesn’t look poisoned at night, it looks more alive than them and the poison is only on the surface.

“I’m going to quit the press soon.” He stated.

“Why?”

“Why not. I’ve lived in the city since graduation. I feel like it’s time to move on.” He grabbed a fistful of sand and filtered it through his fingers. “Don’t you get the urge to keep going?”

“I feel like I’m going in circles most days regardless of where I am. It follows me.” Percy began to rub her temples and grabbed sand to filter too. “We don’t do anything these days. Humanity doesn’t do anything. History shows all of these civilizations rising and falling, wars, plagues, architecture, beliefs falling out of the fucking sky. And now that we are living, nothing is happening to mark our lives as momentary. So keep going where?”

“Fair point, but wouldn’t you like to find out?” Connor smirked for a second and Percy was able to see it and know that he said it like a dare before gunshots broke through the waves’ white noise. They scooted underneath the boardwalk and snickered as tires screeched down the avenue.

“Let’s be like people.” Percy said in a high-pitch voice.