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2001-01-29 | 03:25:41

harriet wanted the apartment so badly she could taste blood.

she stood quivering in the new york city cold and stared up at the glowing windows of the second floor studio that had been stolen from her. stolen from her like a distracted old lady's patent leather purse on a park bench.

she clapped her mittened hands together to warm them as she watched the new tenant--a thin, blonde girl--slowly open up a corrugated box like the lid of a sarcophagus. the girl then began to unspool bubble wrap-mummified housewares.

a passing car's headlights illuminated the white fur-trim on harriet's coat. harriet saw the blonde girl glance down at her as she stood there, staring up. the girl paused for a moment, then turned away and continued unpacking.

harriet turned on her heel and began to walk home. this would not do. this would not do at all. how could that skinny little towhead steal harriet's dream apartment right out from under her? how could she walk sock-footed across those glorious hardwood floors? how could her toiletries line the lovely vintage tile counter in the cozy bathroom?

that apartment was meant to be harriet's. meant to, meant to, meant to...in a fate kind of way. harriet knew it and felt it and had to right the wrong or the universe might teeter along lop-sided from then on out.

after touring the space a week earlier, harriet had filled out an application form and watched and waited and called back daily like you're supposed to--checking with the manager on the status of things. the manager reassured her that her chances were good--"it's between you and two other girls. we're waiting on the credit check." the next phone call from harriet was greeted by an assistant who answered the phone with an "i'm sorry, that apartment has been let."

let. let. let. harriet rolled the word back and forth across her brain like a pinball looking for a hole to drop into. it sounded like such a positive word. "LET me be of assistance...LET me entertain you..." but now its meaning was the essence of evil...more like...bloodlet.

when a determined young woman is the number two applicant for a coveted nyc apartment, there is only one thing such a girl can do to recover her rightful throne...eliminate girl number one.

it was with this thought the plotting began. each day harriet snuck out of work early to find a safe spot to spy on the blonde renter. she began to learn blonde renter's habits. found out blonde renter's name. noticed that she came home late on tuesdays, carrying books. evidently too tired to cook on these nights, blonde renter would order chinese food to be delivered.

three weeks went by. the corrugated boxes were now stacked in the alley and blonde renter had the audacity to hang paintings on harriet's walls. this would not do. not at all. the blonde renter also put up very unattractive drapes with a sickly flower motif. what an abomination! harriet recoiled at the lack of taste such a lucky, lucky, spoiled wench could have.

well-acquainted with the high turnover rate of delivery personnel in the big apple, harriet bided her time until a tuesday when the chinese food delivery bag was being carried by a new face. a tall young boy with a large adam's apple. he peered up above the apartment door searching for the number. harriet hurried across the street to him.

"delivery for perry?" she queried.

the boy nodded.

"that's me," she said and slapped a $10 bill in his hand. "thanks!"

the boy looked a bit confused. then nodded at her and walked away.

stepping into the alley, harriet then did the deed. the deed she had been planning for so long. she popped open the styrofoam clamshell container and tapped a powdery poison into blonde renter's sweet and sour sauce. the glossy sauce swallowed up the powder with ease, just as blonde renter soon would do.

harriet climbed the steps to her rightful abode. she took care to keep her face hidden underneath the brim of her winter hat from possibly peering neighbors.

she stopped at the door to 3G. she knocked. her heart felt tight and her hands were moist around the wrinkly throat of the plastic "to go" bag.

"delivery," she said gruffly.

blonde renter cracked the door enough to see over the dangling chain lock.

"hi. oh, you're new. um, let me get the money," blonde renter padded away in sock-feet to get her purse.

harriet peered through the three-inch door gap to see blonde renter's furniture. the wood of it was blonde, too. there was a cheap feel to it that mocked the cherry finish of the hardword flooring. sick and wrong, thought harriet. sick and wrong that such an apartment should bear the humiliation of such poor, poor decorating sensibilities.

blonde renter returned. the tainted dinner was then traded for a nice tip and harriet walked home more slowly than usual, even changing her typical path.

she waited a week to return to the scene of the crime. the floral drapes were no longer in the window. the next day harriet's phone rang. a call from the manager's office. something had fallen through with the other renter. was she still interested in the flat?

"dear me, yes," answered harriet. "when can i move in?"

all traces of the blonde renter were gone. even her nail wall holes had been spackled. harriet had erased the blonde renter and now the apartment was a clean slate for her to write her life upon.

heartdrunk with her victory, harriet began to dance and spin around the room--dreaming of the possibilities of such a lovely space. her first night in her hard-won home. this called for a glass of wine.

twirling to a stop, harriet hugged herself and smiled. a car passed and harriet caught a glimpse of something outside. she stepped forward to peer down and saw a young woman in a fur-trimmed coat standing across the street and staring back up at her.

***

erin waxes poetic on her dream guy at girlboy today...

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