swirls. There was a medalion with a metal cap in the
middle in the ceiling's center. The former tenant had taken
the ceiling light and fan when he left, and though
maintenance was supposed to replace the original fixture,
they never had. The metal reflected light from my bedside
lamp and the window outside when the room was dark.
Sometimes when I woke in the night I imagined it was the
moon's bright eye somehow transported into my room.
Watching me.
Was someone else watching me? Playing some sort of
game? I got up on one elbow to look around my room and
at my closet, where rows of shirts hung in every color but
blue.
I got out of bed and riffled through my laundry basket to
see what I could find. Blue wasn't my favorite color. I
preferred white shirts for work, since any stains could be
bleached. I did have a blue shirt, though it wasn't one I
would've worn to work. The neckline dipped a little too
would've worn to work. The neckline dipped a little too
low and the cut was a little too close. I held it up in front of
my reflection and turned this way and that. Paired with a
pair of black dress slacks, it would probably be okay.
With a blazer over it. Sure.
And I needed to do laundry anyway, I told myself as I
tossed socks and panties and towels into the basket to
make a ful load. If I did it now, I wouldn't have to do it
later in the week. And there was nothing on the tube.
Yeah.
There was no getting around it. I was hooked on those
lists. For whatever reason. Even if nobody was watching
me. But if someone was, he'd know I hadn't obeyed.
Tomorrow, I would wear a blue shirt.
But first, I had to wash it.
Chapter 17
Riverview Manor had the highest line of efficiency washers
and dryers, but never enough of them. Just another of the
quirks of this supposedly high-end building, and one about
which the T.A. had sent around many memos. Some of the
units were supposed to have their own washers and
dryers, which explained why the laundry room had been
under-stocked. Whatever. Al I knew was when I walked
in with my laundry basket and found the room empty but
for the scent of fabric softener and the hum of rotating
dryer drums, it was a bonus.
I filed a washer with my clothes and the detergent, then
took my empty basket and my book, one I'd found in an
aisle I rarely browsed, to one of the hard wooden chairs
along the wal. I promptly let out a smal shriek as I
realized I was not alone, after al. The man sitting there had
his head bent, headphones on, so he hadn't heard my
