The summer sun crept from behind the curtain, slashing the bed cover in two with its scythe of blinding light.
Morning.
‘Already?’ Moira thought to herself, while trying to protect her eyes from the unwelcome intruder.
During the day she loved the sun. The Irish sun had this quality of being bright and warm without burning your skin, unlike the scorching Mediterranean sun that could roast you to a crisp in no time.
Unable to hide from the light, Moira peeked from under the covers to the clock on the wall. Almost time to get up, but not quite, she could still linger under the covers for a bit.
The sun was already aggressively pushing the day onto her, making her wonder what it looked like behind the black out curtains if it was this bright with them drawn.
‘Whatever!’, she will find out soon enough.
When she could no longer bear it Moira got out of bed slowly, trying to muster the courage to face the day.
‘It has to be done!’, and creaking and moaning she heads to the bathroom for the morning routine.
Half an hour later, all geared up, she leaves the house still not ready to face the day, but bravely getting on with it.
The morning is crisp, despite the intrusive sun lighting up the world, as if it were on fire. On the short walk to the bus stop, she hears birds bickering in the trees lining the sidewalk.
‘I know how you feel!’, Moira smiles to herself and rushes to make sure she does not miss the bus.
Nothing worse than being so close to the bus stop and missing it. She gets there and the board says it will come in three minutes.
‘Let’s hope so!’, Moira thinks to herself while looking at the shoes of the people waiting in the bus stop.
Ten people, eight wearing sports shoes. Long gone the days of wearing formal shoes to the office, now almost everybody wears some kind of sports shoes, including herself.
Moira looks down at her feet content of the fact that there is no pain.
‘Yeah, comfort beats aesthetics!’, at least for her.
The bus appears in the distance with its yellow and green colors shining in the sun making it look like a traveling jewel.
Everybody squishes together in front of the door. Moira with them. She is a veteran at commuting so the anxiety of it is reduced significantly.
‘Yey!’, she got a good seat where she can relax till getting into town.
‘Grrrrr!’, a man sits next to her and hits her knee with his oversized backpack.
Moira decides to ignore him and look out the window while sipping the coffee she had brought in a travel cup.
The world is so pretty. Green leaves and green grass, beautiful flowers, the sun already looks friendlier. The bus smells of a lot of people and it is a bit overwhelming.
‘Not long now! Just a few stops!’, Moira focuses on the outside landscape floating by.
Soon they are in the city and buildings flank the bus on both sides. A city as old as time. Moira finds comfort in the fact that the city has been there for hundreds and hundreds of years before she was born. Maybe it means that it will be there for hundreds and hundreds of years after she will die.
Meaning, it will be there throughout her life time.
At her stop, Moira patiently waits to get off, and then rejoices to find herself in the breezy sunlight. As the day progresses the sun becomes friendlier.
The hotel where she works has a staff entrance hidden away from the large, imposing guest one. Moira likes the secrecy of it, and feels like an insider, as she punches in the security code to the hidden gate.
‘Heeeeeerrreeee’s Johnnyyyy!’, Moira takes a deep breath.
‘Morning!’
‘Mornin’!’
‘Hey! How are you?’
‘You ok?’
When she reaches the office she has lost track of all the people she has met on the way.
‘You can do this!’, Moira puts on her work jacket and although she still has fifteen minutes to go, opens the door to the office to let people know the supply store is now available.
Moira loves her job and feels lucky to have found something that works for her too, not just that she works at. She enjoys counting things, making lists, imposing rules and standards, so, being in charge of the hotel supply store is, in a way, the ideal job for her.
The day crawls at an even pace filled with familiar tasks and well known interactions.
‘Hello!’, an unknown voice fills the empty front office.
‘One sec!’, Moira calls from the backroom where she was counting towels.
When she gets to her desk she is surprised to find a man she has not met before. He is wearing the hotel uniform and at a glance she reads his name tag. Tony- Concierge.
Tony is tall, naturally tanned and emanates an air of confidence, that makes Moira feel awkward on the spot.
‘Hello, I am Tony!’, and he follows his chic Italian accent with a charming, practiced smile.
‘Hello. How can I help?’, Moira sits down on her chair without making any gestures of friendliness.
‘Oh, I just wanted to introduce myself. I am the new Concierge.’, his Italian accent gives the French word a funny pronunciation that makes Moira smile involuntarily.
Taking this as encouragement Tony goes on.
‘We might be able to help each other, me concierge, you supply room manager …’, and he winks letting the words suspended in mid air trying to land on their meaning.
Moira feels a physical repulsion to the suggestion.
‘This needs to be handled now!’, she tells herself as she stands up from her chair.
‘Excellent idea Tony! Here are the rules of engagement with the supply room!’, and she produces a nicely numbered list of rules, she has prepared for people needing written support.
‘Please make sure you read it through and adhere to it. There are no exceptions to the rules. If you are unhappy with any of my decisions please feel free to go to the shift manager and let them know.’
Tony frowns unsure of what is going on. His charm has not worked, and that puzzles him to no end. It never happened before!
‘Best of luck now!’, and Moira turns going back to counting her towels.
As he leaves the office, she hear Tony mutter something about waffles and cool, but has no idea of what he was saying.
‘And that is how we dooo it!’ Moira sings to herself pleased of the outcome.
As she is leaving for the day, she sees Tony in the distance charming one of the receptionists.
‘Oh, to be young again!’
Getting home and closing the door behind her, shutting out the world and its perils always brings a sense of relief and euphoria to Moira.
‘Another one bites the dust!’, she jokingly tells herself while turning on the TV to watch the news of the world she had just left.
‘Ain’t life grand!?!’