Author's note :

Boredom has always been resented and disliked by an interested mind. Books were read, songs were listened to, movies were watched; just so the mind can keep itself entertained. But often, in the bleak taste of boredom, something wonderful, ambitious and challenging is born.

This work of fiction had been begotten from an unsuspecting act of dispersing boredom. Thus, a monumental incursion has been taken by me, with a slight hint of ambition to improve my attributes as a story teller.

A Serendipitous Rendezvous

The car ran down the 31st highway, at an alarming speed of 53 Kilometer per hour. Insulting the sign board over head that announced the maximum speed being 45. The man in the Brown Lando mumbled a curse as the speeding Silver Crown crossed him and reached the side lane. But all trafficable sins were to be forgiven since the Crown emitted the keenly screaming siren. And the half lit highway was pierced by the red and blue that hung from the car's top. It safely reached the shoulder as the others reduced their speed.

Eberns Docks had just reached his 21st birthday 2 weeks ago. And according to his count he had been a chauffeur for only 3 months whilst others joined the Army, went to college or worked to start their own business. It was his own decision to take up this line of work, just to give him a good earning for his leisure. And now he was driving the Silver Crown which he had been appointed only for the last week.
Eberns glanced at the review mirror to see the face of his employer. The woman didn't make eye contact since her mind was occupied already with important thoughts and practiced ignorance to the outside world. He glared in his mind about the events of a few days ago.

" The homes are just towards the south, ma'am. " He reclaimed his memory to the time he navigated to the Boltbers Hospital.
" You shall refer me as Doctor. " The woman answered without taking her eyes off the file that she was reading.

He felt a certain dislike towards her from that moment. Eberns Docks was young and very sensitive. Even though he was a holder of an young character, he often felt despair with a few of his imperfections. And his unforeseen misbehavior was troubling him a bit more than usual since Doctor Port wasn't a very communicative person.

And after 10 minutes of breaking the speed limit, the car finally reached the opening of Boltbers prison. The ordinary and generic city of Boltbers was rattled today as Avian Monroe, a well known dramatist from the state who was also popular for killing his wife during his last play, died at the Prison. And that's why the Silver Crown could rush down the highway and streets with a cautious but excited chauffeur at the wheel who was enjoying the speeding without the fear of being caught.
There was another man sitting beside Docks who didn't say a lot, kept to himself and read a brown file. The back seat was procured by Simone Port, the doctor who was appointed and hurried to the prison as to examine the body and the cause. She was tired but agreed to take the offer. She was only a resident of a week and a half at Boltberns. And the agreement was taken on the thought that her name on tomorrow's newspaper would make a good publication for her. So she carried her leather bag, stuffed with her most precious equipment and carried her week unwashed lab coat on her arm.

The first gate opened at the sight of the Police Department's Lieutenant. Then the second gate opened with another buzz. The third gate had the same reaction. Eberns Docks had never seen the prison up close. He thanked his luck for being employed by a renowned doctor. His last employer was a rich business man. At that time Docks duties were to drive his sons to the country club, the school and various restaurants. He didn't dislike them but they were nothing too exciting. His mouth fell agape seeing the high walls, manned with guards, carrying shotguns. Dressed in their usual complete grey windbreakers. He felt his heart beat more rapidly as they stopped at the court yard. A group of four men reached the car as the Doctor and the Lieutenant stepped out. He went out quickly to receive Doctor Port but she batted no eye as she was busy with the formal discussion with the prison warden.

" Glad you could make it in time, Doctor Port. " Greeted the warden.
" How long has it been the patient passed away? " Asked Port without wasting her time with the usual introduction. The warden hesitated for a moment and answered, " Half an hour. We got a doctor from the infirmary to check up on him. He is still looking. " He answered as the group of men started walking to the entrance.

" Then why drag me all the way from the city? " Port asked a bit rudely. She didn't like the fact that someone was already doing her appointed job.
" The chief recommanded you, personally. And you know the prisoner is a high value........personnel to the city. " They stepped inside the thick walls. The inside held more men as Port followed the Warden. They walked in the room where another fellow and a nurse stood, cleaning their hands. Preparing to take in the dead.

" You have to leave the bag with us. " Warden nodded at the leather bag on the table.
" This is all my medical equipment. I'm here for my work. " She answered straight away as she observed the people in the room.
" Ma'am. " Started Warden.
" Doctor. " She corrected him.
" Excuse me, Doctor, this is a prison. If any of your things go lose, we can have all kinds of problems. " He added in a persuading voice.

" You ever lose your fire arms, Warden? " She said as she opened the bag. There were a lot of her instrumens. She checked the sides then brought out a small bag that rolled over on the table.
" No, I don't. " He answered in an abrupt voice, aware of where the conversation was going.
" Then, why would you assume that I will lose mine? " Her tone didn't try to hide the insult as she examined her bag, accounting for all the necessary things that she needed.
" Fair enough, Doctor. " The Warden gave up his failed persuasion. He grunted quietly for her behavior. There was a call from the chief and the man who died was very famous so he wasn't going to be the black sheep by not following order.
" Well, then. Give me a minute. " She looked around to the dazed faces of the nurse and the silent men.

The silence of her prep was broken when the door swung open and a man in a white infirmary jacket walked in with a satisfied look in his face. His pleasing facial feature escaped when he saw her, scrubbing her hands down and wiping them on the towel beside.
" Warden. " He greeted, still observing the woman in the quarter.
" Cuiver. " The Warden replied.

He walked over to the table where the bag was set and peaked inside. The personal belongings of her was laid down inside the main chain of the bag. The Boltbern Hospital's ID included.
" I thought there were sending their best doctor, not a nurse. " He said in a gruff voice, smiling. The younger man in the guards also joined with the brief laugh that produced an obvious insult.

" Cuvier, this is Doctor Simone Port from Boltbers. She is here for the official claim of the man's health and current state. " Gestured Warden to the woman who was walking to the rolled up bag.
" And Doctor Port, he is Cuvier. Our man at the infirmary. " Port didn't lift her head to meet a wordless greet as she was busy 0thinking of her plans. The man's insult was nothing new and the verbal retaliation for his sheer lack of observance was old too. She was thinking about something else.
" I never heard of you, Doctor Port. " Cuvier said in his usual sarcastic manner, trying to stick up an argument to undermine her professionalism.

" Well, the best doctor of Boltbers is lying in his grave for 20 years. So I had to come. " She didn't look at Cuvier who wasn't expecting an answer from her silence.
" And how could someone like you hear of me? The only literature that passes around prisons are ridiculous erotic novels. Not well written medical journals. They are slightly too intellectual for the masses. " She threw a look at Cuvier first then the young man who had a smirk on his face a second ago. Cuvier opened his mouth for a witty comment but stopped for his empty mind.

Doctor Simone adjusted the latex gloves on both of her hands, pulling at them to fit perfectly. Her preparation was almost done but not quite as she was still looking around the room. It was time for the entrance of another stranger as the door she came in through opened up. The young man looked out of place as his suit was bigger around the shoulder. He wiped his brow and forehead and stared at the room full of people abruptly. Then presented a weak smile and said, " I'm not too late, am I? "
The Warden didn't recognize the man at first since he wore a suspicious look for his identity. Then the silent Lieutenant who was almost forgotten of, spoke of his existence.
" Ah, Jude. Glad you could make it in time. We are just readying for him. " The Lieutenant's voice was smooth and gave away his old age.

" Lieutenant, is the man with you? " Asked Warden with a hint of confusion in his voice.
" Yes, yes. Jude's been transferred from Roughborogh to here, recently. To help me around with my case. " Jude nodded with a more convincing smile.
Simone lost her interest when the small introduction had begun. She was standing near the coat hangers at the end of the room. She pulled down the longest and widest windbreaker she could measure with her eyes. Then grabbed the hat from the desk beside.
" Hmm, Warden. I think we have wasted enough time. So if you don't mind................ "
The group of 8 walked the narrow corridor to an open hall. There was no silence for the dead as the bustling of the prison blocks covered their own footsteps. The man on front was Cuvier, the carrier of the key, walking side by side with a guard. The man just behind him was Warden and the Lieutenant. The nurse was lagging behind since she felt afraid to walk out in the open.

The person walking front of Jude was covered from head to toe in all types of clothing. The hands socked in latex gloves, the hair was masked in the guard hat, not showing one loose strand anywhere, the windbreaker of a six feet 3 inch guy was covering her from head to the knee and the rest was hidden in a large pair of boots. The face was in a sanitary mask. Dr. Simone Port was very cautious and was not very fond of being teased. And she proved her anticipation since there were a lot of teasing going around.

" Yer...ye Waren, now the dramatist's dead who'rs gonna write plays for us? Huh, warren, huh? "
" Macy, macy wait, wait. I didn't have my penicillin shot. Please macy you got warm hands? "
" Avy's dead, avy's dead. But avy Monroe never went to bed. " The prisoner on the cell beside was screaming on top of his lungs, with the pencil tapping hardly on the cell bars, creating the kind of disturbance enough to draw the Warden's attention among all the noise. Everyone was doing something, either yelling curse words at the dead, moaning for Macy the nurse or banging their belongings against something.

" Simmer down, Fiasol. Or I'll throw your name in the pot. " Yelled out the Warden to scare him off.
" Warren, warden. Monroe never went to bed. " He whispered loudly this time as Simone glanced annoyingly and stepped into Monroe's cell. The man was still in cuffs.

She breather heavily for a second, to take in the scenery. The man's passed life could be recognized right of the bat since his eyes were open and not moving. The hands were lying motionless near his waist, wrapped together with the cuff. She waited a second then brought out her torch. The small but strong ray of white light was flashing before his eyes, but they were not moving. She tapped the torch few times to induce the strobe effect but they were still.

" He's done for. " Added Cuvier from behind her. She readied another hurtful comment but paid more attention to the body. She pressed her fingers on the neck to detect the slightest pulse. Then she hanged her stet scopes from her ear and did the last trial to find a beat directly from his heart. But it was as clear as anything else that there was no soul in the body on the bed.
" Lose the cuffs. Avian Monroe's no more. " She announced as Cuvier again glared silently. The guard came in and unlocked the cuffs. Macy appeared with an embarrassed face and a table.
" Take him to the infirmary. " She advised the men. Another guard came forward to lift the body, got stopped halfway.

" Gloves. " She pointed to his uncovered hands. " We don't know what he has. " Her voice was muffled because of the mask but it was clear for the instruction.
The guard patted his pockets even though he was well aware that he had no gloves. She presented an annoyed look at them when Jude stepped forward, putting on a pair of wool gloves nervously.
" I got it. " He walked into the room.

The guard was strong and familiar to lifting heavy objects but Jude wasn't any of them as he struggled to grab the left leg of Avian. By the time they placed the body on the table, he was winded. Simone stood there and observed their lifting with a sly smile for the poor physical capability of the helper.
" Throw them away when you're done. " She advised to the guard's and Jude's gloves.
" Yes, Doctor. " The guard answered instantly.

" Now, get him to the infirmary. I want to dissect the body before 9. " She announced as she stepped out. The chaos of the cells wasn't reduced one bit as Macy received more insults and provocative comments when she and the other man pushed it towards the exist. Doctor Simone Port didn't check her watch at that moment, but it was already 8:50.

Ways She spent her Day light

1 and half a month later.

The brown hazel pupil of Doctor Simone Port were blown. Or that's how it seemed when she looked at Artie McMenning's brain through the 6 times multiplied lens fitted on her head. The surgery of the young boy of only 13 proved its urgency when she got the lab report of a possible brain tumor. A terrifying meeting with the parents, another week wasted at the lab with Dr. Groves and he ended up on her table for the removal of the blown infected cell, about the size of an acorn. She didn't meet up with the concerned parents since their hyprocacy advised her instinct to enter the operation room half an hour ago.

The beads of sweat were produced on the edge of her left temple and were slowly climbing down her neck. She had been holding the scalpel for the last few hours and when the drilling were done, she finally came in with her proudest possessions, her protected and refined instruments that were brought out of the leather bag for the special occasion.
" Artie. " She called up to the kid who was clinging onto the side of the bed from the beginning and didn't find the confidence to let go.

" Yes,..........doctor...Port? " He asked in a tone, conquered by fear. Simone salivated her lips.
" Would you mind in answering a question for me? " She asked in a caring tone as she tore the last piece of his brain. The tumor was out in the open for her to see. And also for Doctor Groves who peaked alongside her. Despite of her being annoyed by the man beside, she didn't flinch since it was the perfect moment she had been waiting for.

" Um....what...what kind of question? " He asked, tightening his finger tips.
" Nothing hard. " She assured him in the usual voice. " It's not geography, if you're worried. " She coughed up a smile. Nurse Tram's eyebrows arched with her eyes too, to hear that.
" Well...... " The boy stuttered.
" What is your philosophy about life? " She presented the question. Nurse Tram couldn't hide the humor in her as she smirked. The question produced a chuckle in Doctor Groves which was nothing more than disturbing to Port. She fought the present urge for a sarcastic comment but the time was not right.

" I don't.... I don't follow. " He stumbled again to make sense of the asked question. It was nothing unusual that the question of the Universe and the ultimate answer to mankind's tiny life were powerful enough to puzzle a child of a primary school. But she wasn't the one to undermine.
" It's simple, Artie. What do you think about life? Why are you here for? " She elaborated the question in a slow manner for his better understatement and also for her concentration. Her scissors were in place and the perfect life of Artie McMenning's was just a small shred away.

" Um.....Ah. " He was sitting on indecision. Simone was silent.

" Take your time, Kiddo. " Tram pressed the wet towel around Artie's nose. The head restraint was in place along with the cuffs on his hands. In layman's terms, Artie McMenning's was strapped in the chair with the lid of the right side of his brain open. It was basic human nature to response to that type of vulnerability with fear.
Artie McMennings was more than puzzled to hear the question. Sometimes his thought needed a bit of a provocation for his mind to blurt out any answer. For that, he had to itch his hair above his left ear. The kind of motion he was seen taking during his final examination of Geography and also Mathematics. But his hair was shaved and for the leather belt wrapped around his wrist, his mind tried to fill the gaps of his shortcomings with thoughts of his own learning. At that moment.

" Well...... my mother always says, we are here to live our life with all sorts of good doings and rights and to respect each other.............and take care of our loved ones, amen. " He ends quickly.
Simone Port was silent for her deep focus. She lost the track of the boy's words when he mentioned his mother. The woman who decided to question her 11 years of experience of brain tumors and wasted a whole week to find out things Simone already knew, wasn't worth her attention. And the way the boy said Amen, her subconscious detected his recitation of the grace that his mother usually say at every family dinner.
" Plate. " Simone requested, completely ignoring his answer. Nurse Tram pushed the wheeled table towards her. The small tumor of his brain, with its growth demolished and its size similar to a bean, was sitting defeated and bloody on the steel plate on the table. She drizzled the water and over it to wash out the grime. The bean sized tumor was lost, looking bloody maroon.

" Artie McMenning is free to go back to his usual life of playing football and studying Geography. " She held the defected cell out and away from his face so he didn't get disgusted. The boy's eyes were squinted to notice it at first.
" Is.........that.. my tumor? " He asked with amazement. At first of the diagnosis, when he was told of his body's failure, he couldn't quite believe it. Until, 4 hours ago when his hair was shaved and he sat under the lights.

" If I say yes, will you let go of your fingers from the arm rest? They are looking very red. " She said in a sarcastic tone to ease him off. The tumor was being flooded in the pan and prepped for a jar. For her showcase.
" Nicely done, Doctor. Port. " Grooves voice proved his existence and his annoying characteristics. She didn't have to be so focused right now.
" Doctor Grooves, can you do me a favor? " She adjusted the lens to her position. " Go sit down near his feet. There is an acute discharge of neurons that usually happens when we put the lid back on. It could tell us if there is any gaps. " Her tone was professional and enough to fool him.

" Ah, um.......sure Doctor. " He said with an uncertain smile and walked to the end of the table, under the blinding light. He sat on the stool and concentrated his whole energy on the feet. Simone wiped the sweat off her neck and forehead and smiled under her mask. She had been accompanied by a lot of doctors who proved themselves to be disturbing. It was the best lie she ever told to one to get her desired space of work.

After a shower of 15 minutes with the music from Francis Delbusch playing just outside her office bathroom, expressing his literature and poetry through the melody and tunes, Simone Port felt very refreshed. Her table was cleared by herself of course, given her obvious distrust of anyone handling her work and the small cart with a couple o dishes were sitting near on a cart table. She sat down in her comfy armchair and smelled the air with a big breath. It smelt like Formalin and diced tomato when she came to discover the jar half filled with a yellow substance and a bean floating in it. She observed it from her chair and smiled to herself. Then she opened up her food from the plates and helped herself with the diced tomato, rice, beans and beef, along with a bit of olive oil drizzled on top. She took one scoop and realized the pain of long hours she spent standing up and her neck arching down patiently on the patient.

The food was everything she hoped for with its tangy and meaty substances. She looked at the jar once again and then at her leather bag, occupying the side chair proudly. Even though Boltbers had her flaws, things were starting to look more on the vision the dean wrote in his letter.
The word letter made her detect the small patch of white that peaked from the lower desk drawer. It was the drawer where she kept all the things she would throw away at the end of the day. She pulled it open and brought it out. The name on the front made her exhale heavily.

It was from Richard Carlland. A fellow doctor of Roughborogh that she came to know at the end of her days. She couldn't recollect what was so attracting about him that she had two dinner with him at the hospital cafeteria. Perhaps it was the leak of anesthetic gas that muddled with her sense of keeping company and eventually made her agree to the man's polite invite. She lost all of her attention towards him when she moved to Boltbers. But the man still didn't give him up as he already wrote to her 3 letters of which she only answered with one. The words of those three letters were very formal but also easy to sense the implication. He was merely finding her attractive and wanted to spend some more time.
She opened the letter with one swift motion of her knife, careless about dirtying it. The knife bloodied the white stationary in a small patches of olive green and red tomato.

She laid back with the glass of water in her right hand and the letter dangling from her fingers at left. As she was a fast reader, given her profession and her personal hobby of reading books daily, she went through it in a matter of a few minutes. Despite of the letter being his third in the past two weeks, the man still found words to write to her. She let out another sigh as she read the followed line.
" Even though you are in Boltbers, I feel like I have seen you around town. Your reflection on the elevator doors, sometimes I find your eyes behind a surgical mask. And on the other days, I could spot you at the park. Mainly at the record store at last Sunday. My mind is never failing at playing those cruel tricks. "

This was not good news for her as it meant there were a few possibilities on board. Either Richard Carlland was sick, suffering from a neurological disorder himself or he was a drunk and a romantic who's acute thirst for the drink and attraction towards her had meddled with his mind. She felt a smirk rising on her face for her initial reaction and rare sense of humor that only surfaced itself on various occasions.
As she put the letter back to its place of being thrown away, she went back to finishing her meal. With the thought of him clinging onto her mind. The warm feeling that rose in her heart from reading the words which weren't as poetic as Francis Delbousch, neither as romantic as Alexandra but held the crude prove of his attraction and attention to her, who was way out of reach. And according to her instant calculation with all the practicality and realism included, she and him couldn't be considered as one for many of reasons.

The warm feeling was there for a tiny moment. But like every tiny moment, it danced around her head and her heart for that time and it was no more when she finished her meal, drank a glass of wine and went back to her house with her leather bag and the prize of the day, the small undergrowth tumor of Artie McMennings.

All Those Days, Worrisome

The next morning, Simone Port didn't jump out of her double bed at the tone of alarm at 6:30. She didn't have to hurry to the bathroom, draw herself bath, dress, set her hair up tightly, wait impatiently for her chauffeur Eberns Docks as she read the weekly medical journal ; there was no hurry for her to catch the breakfast at 8 and be at her office sharply at 9.

It was Sunday. And as force of habit, she woke up at her alarm and turned it off permanently. In spite of being awake, she stayed slumped in her bed staring lazily at the drawn white curtains until they were illuminated to a hue of orange and yellow. She covered herself with the morning robe even though she was dressed appropriately. The sound of the kettle whistled around 7 as she searched the freezer for the abandoned groceries. Half a loaf of bread, cheese, a slice of cake which she didn't know the existence of and a quarter of milk were the contents of her freezer.

The coffee wasn't perfect since her taste were familiarized with the ones bought from the breakfast joints and the cafeteria. Her face squinted when the first sip expressed its bitterness. She devoured it with quick gulps and left the stained mug to drown in the sink.
Simone realized that she was sighing when she exhaled heavily for the third time whilst reading the medical notes of this week. She wasn't very fond of this day since there were no distractions from work, no concerned and uneducated parents to deal with and especially no tumor she could get her scalpel on. She was fond of spending time alone but the last sigh proved to strike another sort of thought.

The truth about silence is, it can go both ways. On some Sundays, she was just grateful that there were no presence of whimpering parents questioning her ability to read a lab report, she was satisfied with her time away from colleagues who handicapped her working space with their peaking. She was pleased with her time spent listening to Francis's tunes and his mispronunciation of the Palasilini, writing all the mistakes of the week's medical journal into her pad so she could bloat about it later. And falling asleep with the mystery novels on her side. She wasn't very excited with romantic novels and always evaded them as best she could.

And the other Sundays were a bit different. Silence would show the different colors, the various effects it had on her. She would prop her feet on the stool near the balcony and stare out the window for quite a while. And that's the time, her mind would trail of uncontrollably to some things that were left and never to be spoken of in the presence of anyone else.

When she finally decided that she should take some time to venture around the city and visit some of the places that could prove themselves to be interesting, it was past 6 in the evening. The idea of going out appeared long ago but wasn't entertained properly for the half doings of her day. She spent some hours of the morning busy with the journal. Her primary intentions were to find out the flaws she searched for patiently. But the week's edition featured the writings of her colleagues from Roughborogh. Their reputation obviously preceded them as there were no major issues other than the little spelling mistake in Anne's article about colon cancer. For her previous friends and also for the good quality of the edition, she folded her pad, empty and derived of any correction from the lack of mistakes. She wanted to call Docks, so that she could send him out to the shop to buy all the necessities to make a meal even though her hand in cooking wasn't nearly as good as her hand in surgery. But she decided to give it a rest since she practiced her strict professionalism on him and maybe somehow upset him since Eberns wasn't very communicative the night before.

The " Do not Disturb " sign was hanging on the door knob like a prisoner who's time had come. It was hanging there from early noon but her neighbor of 603 was failing to pay any attention to it since she again knocked on the door as Simone was just getting up. She grunted heavily, understanding the identity of the person behind the door. She picked at the collar of her turtleneck with annoyance, went to the door and bestowed the best smile she could on her face.

" Hello again, Mrs. Afian. " Her voice of formality was present, apparently.
" Oh please, call me Suzanne. " Mrs. Afian gave an embarrassed smile. She was much younger than Simone Port and very much married. As the society of that time liked it.
" Alright. Suzanne. " Port smiled, stuffing her annoyance deep.
" I'm very sorry to annoy you again, Mrs. Port. But as you know I'm having some guests over and I just ran out of cheese. " She leaned her head at her side for her lack of foresight.
" Oh, that's very unfortunate, Suzanne. " She answered with her eyes still practicing her artificial care. Her stance was strong, as her head peaked out from behind the door and her arm was blocking the way. She didn't want to but it was the curse of being a social being.

" Please, come in. " She gestured her to come in as Port turned around and huffed. She was disappointed with herself. But she didn't have any other choice. Suzanne turned in around 5 after Simone heard a group of footsteps walking past her door and to hers. At first, she asked if by any chance Port could lend her some sugar. Even though she had enough to go on one more day with the last of it, scouring at the bottom of the jam jar, she replied in the negative.
" Oh, I'm sorry actually. I just ran out too. " She scratched the hair behind her ear as she lied. It wasn't her usual way of creating misconception since most of the time she falsified her words because of the easement of her work.

Simone Port wasn't unkind in any way at all. As a matter of fact she was kinder than the next person. The perks of being a doctor and quite a reputed one were both good and uncomfortable. She made more than enough for her to go by in all of her worldly luxury. She couldn't even considered a fancy woman since the only costly thing she had was kept safe in the leather bag. Her surgery equipment made in the hands of her trusted and visited friend, Devoniac Altmann. They cost her two months of her salary but they were made, measured and tested to perfection. They were worth more than every penny.
The uncomfortable ones were the charity dinners and the annual hospital fundraisers she had to participate in. So she followed a method by taking her one week's vacation a couple of days before that. Not to get out of donating money, of course. She sent a big check and also a letter of apology for the sudden visit to her mother.

But she hesitated at first to lend the bit amount of sugar as to establish the rap that she was not a resourceful woman who could help everyone out, even with household items. Her intentions were to portrait herself as just a doctor who couldn't keep her nose out of her work, which she was everyday, except for the weekly off.

" Have a seat. I think I have some in the pantry. " She indicated to the couch and then noticed the small pile of journals and pads, the pen rolling around on top of it.

" Thank you. " Said Suzanne as she sat down and looked around the apartment.
With a silent sigh and a hunk of cheese in the plate, Simone came back into the living room and saw the woman walking around. Her presence alerted Suzanne as she blurted a grunt.
" It's a beautiful place you have here, Mrs. Port. " She stated as she walked past the open balcony doors.
" It's actually Ms. Port. " Simone answered with a weakened smile. Putting the plate down on the coffee table, near the 2 cups.
" Oh, I'm sorry. I had no idea. " She quickly walked over to the couch to meet with her.
" I just assumed that................. " She started in an apologetic tone.
" It's alright, really. " Simone answered quickly. The interaction had lost its charm and started to leak its flaws.
" My husband's an accountant at Vex. I used to be a teacher but then we moved here. " She started a brief introduction since her formality stopped her from taking her help without a little talk.
" I heard that you are a doctor. " It was more of a question than a statement.
" Oh, yes. I am at Boltbers Main. " She grabbed the papers from the couch and took them to the other room.
" Well, thank you a lot for this. I would have invited you over but......... " Suzanne's apology started out strong but lost its gravity for the lack of convincing words.
" No, it's fine. I have some work to take care of. And I wouldn't want to intrude. " She answered quickly with a fake smile. Her jaw seemed to be putting up nicely with her friendly facade. Suzanne had rarely seen Simone from her four weeks of living in the 6 story building right in the center of Boltbers. She was running out of things to say and wanted to state that but didn't cause it seemed a bit rude.

" If you can then please we would be delighted to have you for dinner this weekend. We haven't been very social as you are our neighbor. " She chuckled as they moved onto the door.
" Jim's always full with work and it would be nice to have a little company. I spent most of the time with the kids. " She said as Simone grunted internally. The woman's idea of success was very much ordinary. A care taker of kids and husband. She must know a lot of words as being a formal teacher but Simone could understand the words " Higher Ambition " weren't in her sight.
" I would be happy too. But only if I'm not too busy. " She answered as she made a mental note to spend a day away either at the hospital or somewhere within Boltbers to avoid this unnecessary social interaction.
" Well, thanks again. If you need anything then please don't hesitate to come to us. " She nodded happily. Simone followed suit with one friendly smile and a short wave.
Then she shut the door, inhaled loudly and brushed the falling hair from her face. Her discontinued thoughts came rolling down to her mind. She walked to the dining table, trying to make them flee. Her pen was drafting the first letter to the Dean of Boltbers who had failed to keep his promise and provide her a duplex house near the silent and less populated country side.