Kara Wynters is not rich. But lucky for her, she is a musical prodigy.
By the age of six, she could play more instruments that she could count on both hands. After receiving a scholarship to one of the most elite private school, Kara spent most of...
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Buying five cans of golden peaches instead of the usual three cans seemed like a good idea. Buying two cabbages instead of one also seemed like a good idea. But that was all before the elevator in my apartment complex broke and I had to walk up the stairs with four bags of groceries.
"This is the third time it's broken this month." I huff heavily into the phone cradled tightly between my shoulder and cheek. My foots steps echoed against the concrete of the stairwell walls as I continued up, up and up, "Do you hear that? That's the sound of me dying."
"You're too dramatic, Kara. I've got a handyman heading over this afternoon." Ken, the worst landlord in the history of landlords, tries to bypass by boiling anger with a light chuckle.
"Don't test me, Ken. I will pass out on these stairs and purposely hit my head, causing all my brain goo and blood to go everywhere." I continue on my tirade through my cellphone and adjust the grip on the four paper bags of grocery products, "Then I will haunt this apartment so no one ever lives here again!"
"It's going to get fixed by tomorrow. Calm down." Ken sighs deeply on the other end. I grumble under my breath, wishing my body could transcend the physical constructs of the device and strangle the life out of my landlord.
One foot after the other, Kara.
I focus on continuing to crawl up to the fifth floor of Somerset Apartments, "We need a new elevator. Sammy Hendricks got stuck in it last week and now he can't even look at the elevator doors without bursting into tears."
"He probably just got scared because he's a little kid." Ken brushes it off as I finally reach fourth floor. One more floor, you got this. These stairs are your bitch.
I huff, "He's thirty-four."
"Really?" Ken questions and I hum in response, "Well, anyways, I've been working on the paperwork to get a new elevator. Trust me, it's a lot more difficult than you think."
Paperwork my ass.
"Is that paperwork with the other paperwork for my compost bin idea? Or the paperwork about the vertical garden in the lobby I suggested?" I question while feeling sweat trickle down the back of my neck and I was suddenly thankful for wearing a tank top.
I'm met with silence on the other end.
"Look, all I'm asking—and on behalf of all the other residence—is for a new elevator." I tell him as the toe of my sandal catches the cement step and I fall forward. Luckily I catch myself on the metal rails, however, my elbow slams against it and my mouth drops as I silently wail out in pain.
Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.
"Yea, yea, yea." Ken says as I bite down on my lip and glance up at the ceiling in an attempt to keep my cries of pain at bay. "I'll look into it."
