Random Short story: June

There's an apartment complex in some nameless small town. Hidden away in the back corner is an apartment with a little old woman. She comes out to get her mail. She doesn't really talk with her neighbors. Every Sunday, she goes shopping with some church charity. These are the only times she's really seen - mail and shopping at the local grocery store.

If you were to step inside her apartment you'd find it almost claustrophobic, but organized. Furniture is a mishmash of different eras. The kitchenette is still in the style of the 1950s. A large radio that dates back to World War I crackles and hums even as it plays what you recognize from the local talk radio station. It is not plugged in.

Every chair and all along the back of the couch has the respective crochet antimacassar to protect the fabric from the hair of fashionable men. She sits at the Formica table with a steaming cup of tea, with what looks suspiciously like Belladonna flowers floating in it. Before her is a pack of cards. Perpetually, she plays Solitaire.

When you came in, you noticed sitting on that kitchenette counter is a cake stand with a perfect looking, photo worthy red velvet cake. Beside the cake stand are two plates, two forks, and a cleaver. The old woman didn't look up from her game when you entered.

As you draw closer, you realize the figures on the cards move like holographic images despite laying flat upon the table. She taps on the deck. In the static of the radio, you hear someone's voice begging you to get out. When she turns over the next card, you see yourself in her little kitchenette.

But, the old woman never goes out or talks to her neighbors. No one really knows how old she is. Some say she's been there since the place was built. Others say that there's something not quite right about her. No one visits. No one's been seen going in or out. The kinder neighbors say piteously that she's probably outlived her family.

The police came round. They had your picture, but it didn't move. It was just a regular picture. They knocked at her door and she opened a curtain to look out. They held up your picture and she shook her head before going back to her Solitaire game. Your card moves like a hologram even though it is flat on the table with the others. You're seen beating your fists against something in the foreground, like a window that one is looking through. In the static of the radio, your voice is begging her to let you go.