I was back in the elevator again. Leading myself towards the 47th floor. It didn’t feel real. It felt more like a dream. Like I was floating through The Plan, being pulled towards the awaiting disasters like driftwood washing up on the shoreline.

I blinked and was back in front of the 3 doors. The door marked The Beginning was cracked open. I walked in and found Mr. Calamity looking into the life of Marshall Fix. His hands were in the glass room. He was pushing a stack of books over.

The books went full dominos and crashed over in succession. The last book fell from the shelf and hit the ground. Marshall had been making calls trying to find a new job. His old job had sent a bad reference out into the industry, making him effectively black listed. People always seemed so professional when letting someone go, so appreciative of your work. Only after you left did they screw you over. Stab you after shooting you. Marshall was learning that the hard way. He had spent hours trying to find a new job. All the numbers in his notebook were crossed off. He wouldn’t be able to afford his apartment without a well-paying job. He wouldn’t be able to afford anything without some kind of job though.

He walked to the bookshelf and picked up the fallen novel. It was a book he had never read. He hadn’t read most of the books on the shelf. They were all books his ex had left behind. Reading was her passion, not his. She had tried numerous times to get him to read but he never did. Fiction was something he didn’t have time for. Real life. Real job. Real money. That was Marshall’s interest. He was lacking 1 of those 3 now, and soon would be lacking another.

The only thing Marshall had for sure now was the possessions left in his apartment. That included the cat his ex had left behind. The cat, whose name was Fluke, was eating in the kitchen. He had the bad habit of pushing his food bowl under the small ledge of the kitchen counter as he ate. Marshall walked over and tried to help out. Fluke ran away to his favorite spot under a coffee table in the corner of the room. From there he could monitor the whole apartment. Marshall showed displeasure at Fluke running from him. Even the cat didn’t want anything to do with him.

“Don’t forget that she left you. I’m the one that’s still here.”

Marshall walked into the bedroom and sat on his bed. He leaned back, fully intending to nap after a day of looking for jobs. Only when he leaned back he realized that he still had the book in his hand. No job. Money running out. A cat who showed no love for him. All these things were getting away from the crashing ship that was Marshall Fix. But the book wasn’t getting away. The book was staying with him. So he did what he refused to do before. He opened it and started reading. With real life crashing in on him, fiction didn’t sound so bad.

Mr. Calamity looked back at me.

“Are you ready to continue?” He asked.

“Yes,” I replied.