Chapter 4- Special Bins

I normally don't hear people through the walls of my apartment, even if they are blasting music or arguing. The builders did a fantastic job insulating the place I guess. I don't know a ton about construction, but it seems like whoever planned this particular community knew how annoying paper thin walls can be. This morning, however, I heard a massive thump against the wall of my bedroom. If I didn't know better I'd say someone threw a cinderblock or a bowling ball against the wall. I sat up in bed, attentively listening for any sign of struggle or problem. Nothing. Reaching for my phone I pushed the wake button to check the time. 6:12am. I doubt I'll be able to fall back asleep before my alarm goes off at 7:00, so I might as well get up.

I hopped in the shower, shivering from the cold air creating goose bumps across my bare skin. The water felt fantastic. Not too hot, just enough above room temperature so it felt warm but not so hot that I'd start sweating. I'm usually a no-nonsense shower taker, getting clean and getting out, but today I took my time, standing under the water, watching as the drops fell to the plastic floor. The silvery trails of water traced my body and flattened my hair, running in distinct paths to the drain below.

Another tremendous thump sounded in the next apartment, and I looked at shower wall, half expecting something or someone to come crashing through. If that did happen I wouldn't want to be standing there like some naked idiot, so I shut the water off and grabbed my towel. Watching the wall carefully I dried off quickly and put on my deodorant. As I reached for my toothbrush I heard another thump. What were they doing over there? I'd never met my neighbors, at least I'd never spoken to them. I knew there was a man and a woman living there, though they were rarely home. The few times I saw them they were never together, always coming or going in some uniform. As best I could gather she was a nurse or a dental assistant, she seemed to have a different set of scrubs on each time I saw her. He rotated between a shirt and tie and a set of coveralls with the name "Duke" on them. I guessed he was a mechanic during the day and had some sort of sales job in the evenings, probably at a call center or some furniture store.

I leaned into the mirror, listening closely for the sounds of struggle. For a moment I thought I heard a sob, as though someone was crying, but as quickly as it started it stopped. I looked in the mirror, staring at myself. "Not your business" I said, forcing myself not to get involved. I had always had the tendency to speak up, to communicate problems as I saw them, not necessarily getting involved personally but always calling the police non-emergency number when I saw debris on the freeway or an out of control drunk in a restaurant. It was my way of being an involved citizen without having to keep abreast of the nonsense on the nightly news.

I dressed and made a quick breakfast, greek yogurt with a couple spoonfuls of raspberry jelly and some grapes thrown in to give it texture.  I mixed it all up in a cardboard cup and grabbed a plastic spoon as I headed out the door.  As I stepped out into the hallway I noticed the woman next door just coming home.  She carried a brown paper bag and looked very nervous, as though I had caught her in the act.  I held up my cup of yogurt in a sort of toasting salute, and smiled, the spoon in my mouth pointing upward as my lips curled around it.  As soon as I locked the door I put the keys in my pocket and pulled the spoon out of my mouth.  "Good morning!" I called out.  She dropped her keys and fumbled to pick them up without spilling the contents of her bag.  "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you." I apologized.  "let me help." I took a few steps toward her and froze as she panicked "Stop, don't!" she called out.  The look of surprise and confusion on my face sent a shiver of nervous alarm and she quickly backpedaled. "I mean..." she stammered. "We're sick, and I don't want you to catch it."  I smiled, and turned to go, glancing back just in time to see her nervously rush into her own apartment.  She was hiding something, I could tell that much.

The commute into work was typical, and since I had a lot of extra time I stopped in the coffee shop and ordered a spiced cider.  I sat out in the cafe, sipping on the warm liquid and thumbing though my twitter feed on my phone.  Bath salts this, zombie that, it seemed that was all anyone was talking about.  There was still the typical chatter about love lost and words of wisdom, as well as a few advertisements from businesses about their latest press release or product launch.  Overall a typical day so far.

I walked slowly up the stairs to the office, typing in my facebook status as I climbed to our floor.  "Heading to work, hope we don't have any more mystery gifts show up on someone's desk."  I tapped "post" and put my phone back in my pocket.  The receptionist was on the phone and gave me a half wave as I walked in.  "No, he's not here at the moment, but I can put you to his voicemail." she said politely.  I pushed my wallet against the door and felt the magnet release as I pulled it open.

Lucas was over by the copier setting up a series of new metal bins.  Each one had an icon of a different type of trash. Cans, plastic bottles, cardboard, paper. I guess my idea inspired him. They were really nice bins too- Metal and very sturdy. "Where's you find these?" I asked after I'd put my things down at my desk.  "Made them." he said proudly.  "I have a metal shop in my garage, but hadn't really put it to good use since my last job."  I admired the craftsmanship.  He really was a fantastic metallurgist, if that's what you'd call him.  Whatever the proper term, he made great bins.  "I used to make swords, knives and axes for TV shows and movies, but there hasn't been a lot of business for that these days." He said with a hint of sorrow in his voice.  "I still like doing it though."  I imagined Lucas in his coveralls with a welder's helmet on, wielding a double-bladed claymore against an army of enemies.  "Well here's your first donation" I said, smiling as I tossed a water bottle I'd picked up from my desk into the bin marked "plastic."  He smiled and touched my arm as I turned to walk away.  "Did you happen do get the name of that recycling company for me?" He asked quietly but eagerly.  I squinted my eyes and rapped my knuckles on my forehead.  "No, I totally forgot, but I'll get it today, okay?"  He smiled again and nodded as I went back to my desk.

As I checked my e-mail I thought about Lucas.  If he made weapons I wonder if he could sell them online to make some extra money.  I googled "laws for weapon sales on web" and found a lot of information restricting the sale of handguns and other firearms, but couldn't find anything about blades or bows.  I'd have to remember to tell him about that when I saw him later.

An e-mail popped up from Jeff about another person high on "bath salts" attacking someone like a mindless monster.  I looked over at his desk and noticed he wasn't there.  I sent him an e-mail asking for an update on a design he was working on for the customer brochure we were working on, and immediately got a response "Out of Office Automatic Reply:  Sorry, I'm working from home today, but I'll check my e-mail periodically."  I wonder if this was HR mandated or if he was too embarrassed by his stunt.  If he's using his paid time off  to avoid us...  Well, at least things will be a little quieter around here without Mr. Doomsday headline giving me a verbal update on the zombie apocalypse every 5 minutes.

"Hey, we're all going to lunch" Dwayne said as he grabbed his jacket.  "Wanna come?" I looked at the clock.  11:45.  "Where are you going?" I asked, glancing around to see who "we all" were.  The HR lady, Dwayne, and several of the accountants were all getting purses and locking their computer screens.  "Heading over to Mario's." Dwayne said.  "Lunch special."  I nodded and grabbed my jacket, swinging it over my shoulder as I pulled on one of the sleeves.  As I walked out I felt a hand grab the other side and help guide it onto my other arm.  "Hey, thanks" I said as I turned over my shoulder to see who it was.  Tracy stood there, smiling at me.  "No problem." she said, and walked past me out the door.  

As we walked down the steps I could smell her hair.  Its long, dark locks hung in loose curls over her shoulders and the light danced across it as she walked.  I looked behind me, expecting that guy from marketing to bound down the stairs any minute and step along side her, but he never did.  She talked comfortably with the HR lady and swung her purse at her side playfully and energetically.  She seemed like she was in a better mood than usual.  I smiled to myself, secretly hoping it had something to do with me.

Marios was packed, and I had to turn sideways several times as I made my way up to the counter.  An immensely popular place for lunch, they made delicious food very fast, so it was typical to see everyone that worked with a 3 block radius in between the hours of 11am and 1pm.   I ordered a turkey swiss on wheat with avocados and waited patiently as the cashier swiped my card.  "need a receipt?" she asked and I shook my head and stepped to the right as she addressed the next customer in line.  I admired the glass case full of delicious looking side salads and oversized desserts.  The top was covered in baskets of cookies and muffins, and I eyed the chocolate chip ones ruefully.  "I typically forget to get dessert but I always want it." I said to the person next to me, who smiled and typed out a text message to someone.  I waited patiently and soon heard my number "45!" a man with a thick accent called out, holding a basket with a large overstuffed sandwich.  I smiled and took the basket, turning to look for the rest of my group.

Dwayne was standing with several of our co-workers across the restaurant at a tall table and motioned to me with his long arms.  I turned sideways to get past the thick crowd of people and almost knocked over a shorter Asian gentleman.  "Sorry" I said apologetically.  He smiled back, "Iss Bizzy!" he said in a thick accent and bowed slightly before moving out of my way.  I smiled back and nodded in agreement, moving towards my colleagues.  Placing my basket down on the table, I realized Tracy wasn't there.  I looked around the restaurant, knowing that our table was full and I could potentially win a few points by offering her my space on it's surface, but didn't see her.  "Where'd Tracy go?" I asked.  One of the accountants nodded with a mouth full of something that had sprouts in it and pointed toward the door "Over there" she said, a green string dangling out the corner of her mouth.  I followed the direction of her hand and saw Tracy was walking out with a brown paper bag, waving in our direction.  She held up her bag and cup and smiled before disappearing out of the crowded doorway.