A Second Chair

Greta got the keys to her first apartment on a Sunday in March. The rooms in Queens were empty. She had a bed, a lamp, and a box of books.

That night she made a list: a table, a chair, a bin, curtains, plates.

On Monday she started her new job. She smiled too much and wrote everything down. On Tuesday she bought a table from a man on the third floor. It was old and too large for the kitchen, but the price was twenty dollars and he carried it to her door.

By Thursday her neck hurt from the bed and her head hurt from the job. She crossed “curtains” off the list and slept.

On Friday a woman at work asked what she was doing on Sunday.

“Nothing,” Greta said. “I don't really know anybody here yet.”

“Well, now you know me,” the woman said. “I'll bring the coffee.”

That night Greta looked at her list. Two things were finished and three were not. She wrote one more line at the bottom: a second chair.