Macy bit the top of her coffee cup from Café Joe’s, managing to get her teeth over the lid to hold it in place while she reached into her pocket to find the piece of paper with an address written on it. She snapped her wrist, opening the paper, briefly seeing the address before a small gust of wind took it out of her hand and sent it sailing through the air. When she opened her mouth to yell at the unfortunate event, her coffee fell right on her shoe. The hit was hard enough that the lid came off the coffee cup, sending coffee everywhere, in a light brown messy circular pattern, including blotches of coffee on Macy’s new white shoes.


“Wonderful,” she whispered, stepping from the puddle of caffeine.

In her left hand was a painting done by her boss, Stacey C. One of the city’s newest and hottest artists, her work had been high in demand for some time but thanks to an article and small spot in a national magazine, business had been booming. Macy met Stacey in college when Stacey still used her last name instead of just her initial ‘C’. Success had made her into something else, but she always had a job for Macy, while Macy worked her way through some changes.

That’s all it was supposed to be - some changes.

That was two years ago.

Now she stood with her white shoes stained, her coffee wasted, looking for an address to a building to drop off a painting at. All for a measly commission that would keep the electric turned on for another month.

Macy bent down and picked up the empty coffee cup. She threw it as hard as she could into the trashcan and then set her sights on the buildings before her. Stacey had said look for the tallest building and go to the fifteenth floor. Ask for Dave, collect the check, and smile. That’s exactly what Macy did, except the squishy feeling of coffee in her shoe. It felt like the most obvious thing in the world to her, making her feel uncomfortable, more than normal. It wasn’t so much that her curvy body attracted a lot of judging eyes, it was because that was something she could not hide. Of all the secrets she could keep tucked away, her body was something she couldn’t hide. With each step she took, her eyes tried to look down, calling out to the mess of coffee on her feet. At one point she caught the faint smell of sugar and cream, making her even more annoyed because she really wanted (and needed) that cup of coffee.

The night before, Macy had spent hours working on a painting. She didn’t consider herself talented, not like Stacey C., but it was nice to have something fun to do. She couldn’t mention it to Stacey C. for fear of jealousy and losing her job, so she kept all her supplies and artwork hidden in her closet. Each time she opened that closet, digging for the painting stuff, it made her feel like she was reaching for a metaphor of her life.

Building F wasn’t the tallest building, at least according to Macy’s perception. She remembered seeing the letter ‘F’ on the piece of paper before it blew away. As she pushed through the rotating doors, she held the painting in front of herself, allowing her wide hips to make it through without a problem. To her left, was a gold plated sign with a list of names and floors.

15th floor. Ask for Dave.

She walked to the elevators, standing in a small group when her cell phone started to beep. It wasn’t a horribly loud beep, but the only one that made enough noise when Macy was out in public. Normally she could get to the phone in time to stop it or she would just hold her phone. But since she had a painting in one hand and did have a coffee in the other, her phone had been tucked in her bag. Sets of eyes looked at her as she got the phone and silenced it.

It was Stacey C.

She had to take the call.

The elevator doors opened and Macy casually backed up, not wanting to be rude on the elevator. She also didn’t want to ride on the elevator and stink it up with her coffee smelling shoes.