#68 Ten Flights Of Stairs In Soho And A Cigarette.

Because this is my blog, I realize I can do whatever I want. Which is what I thought I was already doing- except I will try something different in this post. I wrote two versions of #68. I will post both. The first shows Ann less "soft", or more in her anxious head. The second adds a slight bit of engagement with others which slightly softens Ann. I think both are interesting. This is my way of exploring character development as I work on longer pieces outside of this blog.

First version:

“Shit!” spit Ann.

“Shit shit       shit shitshit.” She simultaneously broke her nail and dropped a quarter inch cigarette ash on her laptop as she was powering off. She blew the dust off the keyboard with the smoke from her cigarette.  Leaning back in her chair she lit a new one with her old one, inhaling deeply as if she just got to the pine woods and finally had something filling her lungs beside disgusting city exhaust.  She inspected her broken nail and shook her head as she bit off the remaining nail, which was right below the nail bed.  It stung like crazy as she calculated the number of days or hours it would take for it to grow back and not hurt anymore.

She inhaled again and snuffed most of the cigarette into the ashtray and opened the window to let the smoky air out.  It was freezing outside and she left the window open a crack before she turned off the lights.  She left the pack of cigarettes on her desk.

A text came through on her phone from her sitter.

“When r u getting home?”

 “ASAP Thnx!”

Her winter coat didn’t zip anymore.

She stood by the elevator and poked the Down button. It lit but she didn’t wait because unless it was right there it would take forever. Her building had not invested in a new passenger elevator since 1890. Well, there were some interior renovations, but the motor was always stalling and she could always hear the piercing alarm from her office. She liked taking the stairs and being 8 months pregnant didn’t stop her. She took them from day one of her first pregnancy and this one wouldn’t be any different. Before she started down she looked over the old iron banister trying to take in how high up she was. She was tempted to drop a nickel but didn’t want to risk hurting anyone. 

Down the steps.

One flight at a time.

The landing on 8 always had a neat pile of cigarette stubs sitting in ash on the bottom step which pissed her off because it was a fire hazard to smoke in the stairwell.  During her breaks, as she head down the steps, she often passed a 20-something girl on the phone crying over a breakup and sucking on a cigarette between sobs. Ann felt bad for a while and then thought it wasn’t the most discreet place to settle private business.

Before cell phones, when Ann was young, she had done this too so she could relate to the urgency. Poor kid.

But after 9:00 PM the stairs were empty and the security doors leading to each floor were locked and the lights were out. When she got to the third floor she always heard a piano and voice coach going strong and thought, maybe one day I’ll take voice lessons. She laughed out loud.

“Goodnight Carl! Get home safe!”

“Nite Miss!”

She'd known Carl for 14 years and he still didn't remember her name.  Standing outside the lobby were two huddling guys blocking the entrance. Only wearing t-shirts and smoking cigarettes they stomped their feet to keep warm. The cigarettes weren’t warming them up but they needed to smoke and she could relate to that.

She head for the subway and got a seat next to a woman who pulled out her crocheting project which was a pink disk, maybe a start on hat.

Ann opened her book and read.

Second Version: 

“Shit!” spit Ann.

“Shit shit       shit shitshit.” She simultaneously broke her nail and dropped a quarter inch cigarette ash on her laptop as she was powering off. She blew the dust off the keyboard with the smoke from her cigarette.  Leaning back in her chair she lit a new one with her old one, inhaling deeply as if she just got to the pine woods and finally had something filling her lungs beside disgusting city exhaust.  She inspected her broken nail and shook her head as she bit off the remaining nail, which was right below the nail bed.  It stung like crazy as she calculated the number of days or hours it would take for it to grow back and not hurt anymore.

She inhaled again and snuffed most of the cigarette into the ashtray and opened the window to let the smoky air out.  It was freezing outside and she left the window open a crack before she turned off the lights.  She left the pack of cigarettes on her desk.

She had her quota for the day.

A text came through on her phone from her sitter.

“When r u getting home?”

 “ASAP Thnx!”
"K had his bath and is in bed. C U soon!"

Her winter coat didn’t zip anymore.

She stood by the elevator and poked the Down button. It lit but she didn’t wait because unless it was right there it would take forever. Her building had not invested in a new passenger elevator since 1890. Well, there were some interior renovations, but the motor was always stalling and she could always hear the piercing alarm from her office. She liked taking the stairs and being 8 months pregnant didn’t stop her. She took them from day one of her first pregnancy and this one wouldn’t be any different. Before she started down she looked over the old iron banister trying to take in how high up she was. She was tempted to drop a nickel but didn’t want to risk hurting anyone. 

Down the steps.

One flight at a time.

The landing on 8 always had a neat pile of cigarette stubs sitting in ash on the bottom step which pissed her off because it was a fire hazard to smoke in the stairwell.  During her breaks, as she head down the steps, she often passed a 20-something girl on the phone crying over a breakup and sucking on a cigarette between sobs. Ann felt bad for a while and then thought it wasn’t the most discreet place to settle private business.

Before cell phones, when Ann was young, she had done this too so she could relate to the urgency. Poor kid.

But after 9:00 PM the stairs were empty and the security doors leading to each floor were locked and the lights were out. When she got to the third floor she always heard a piano and voice coach going strong and thought, maybe one day I’ll take voice lessons. She laughed out loud and the sound bounced off the high walls and she started singing to herself.

“Goodnight Carl! Get home safe!”

“Nite Miss!” he waved.

She’d known Carl for 14 years and she still felt like he didn't  remember her name(of course she knew he did). He was always friendly and never frowned.  Standing outside the lobby were two huddling guys blocking the entrance. Only wearing t-shirts and smoking cigarettes they stomped their feet to keep warm. The cigarettes weren’t warming them up but they needed to smoke and she could relate to that.

She head for the subway and got a seat next to a woman who pulled out her crocheting project which was a pink disk, maybe starting a hat. The pink yard was carefully wound around her finger and crochet needle and she was totally focussed.  Ann liked handmade things. She closed her eyes.