"The Newspaper Building"

January 8,

I've always wanted to go in, but there is something about derelict buildings that freak you out a little bit. You know what I am talking about. The fact that people haven't set foot in a building for at least ten or twelve years is a little eerie. The absence of human presence is really unsettling. Or maybe it's just that you can't see in the place. Not knowing what's inside. The windows are all covered with newspaper which raises the question, why did they cover the windows? They wouldn't do that unless there was something in there they didn't want you to see. Is there a pile of rotting dead corpses in there? Is it a brothel? I never see hookers go inside, I see them walk past a lot though and they tend to gather outside of it at nighttime. For all I know a portal to another dimension could be inside there. The cure to cancer. The fountain of youth. Why else would they cover up the windows?
So I finally decided. I'm going. I'm going to steel myself and just go on in, corpses or no corpses.

January 9,

So I didn't go in. I couldn't. It just… It was really unnerving. I walked around outside trying to pump myself up, "C'mon, this is it. Just, just run in and run out. Just go really fast. Go. Now." And then nothing. I sat down on a dirty bench next to this old woman who always sits there and feeds the birds. She wears this pink bonnet that she ties in a big bow under her chin and her hands shake uncontrollably when she reaches into her bag to throw breadcrumbs. The birds strutted around her and pecked at her little offerings, and I wondered what about feeding the birds made her so happy. I wondered why she never worried about catching bird flu. I guess when you grow that old, it really doesn't matter.

January 10,

This time it wasn't my fault. A cop was patrolling around outside of the building, so I wasn't going to go in. I mean, I don't know if going in was trespassing or what, but I wasn't going to risk it. I can't afford to get arrested. I sat back down on the same bench to wait for the cop to leave, which he never did. The old woman was there again. The same pink bonnet, same shaky hands reaching in and throwing out breadcrumbs. I kind of admired her persistence. The birds were hypnotizing me so I didn't notice when she turned to me and smiled.

January 11,

I didn't go back for the building this time. I just wanted to sit on that bench.

January 12,

The woman's name is Ethel.

January 13,

Today it was really cold and the birds weren't there. It was then that I realized that it was winter and that birds shouldn't be here. They migrate during the winter. I thought about it for a while and realized that the only thing keeping them there must be Ethel feeding them every day. I sat by her awkwardly, I wasn't used to being near her without the sound of cooing and the scratching of pigeon talons on the pavement. She just stared out at the spot where the pigeons would normally be, sadly, the bag of breadcrumbs resting untouched beside her.

"No birds today," I said.

She turned and looked at me solemnly. She nodded. "They'll come back."

I didn't know what to say so I just nodded back at her in uneasy reassurance. Ethel turned back to staring at the pavement, so I got up and left.

January 14,

I came back and sat down by Ethel. The birds weren't there again. I noticed that she didn't have the bag of crumbs anymore. Now she was knitting. Her hands shook even more violently as she wove the faded pink fabric in and out.

"No birds today," she said.

I was kind of taken aback because she had never addressed me first. I was always the first one to say something.

"They'll come back," I said.

"Oh, don't be silly. It's winter. They already stayed too long."

I looked at her as she sat there knitting so quietly. This was very uncharacteristic of Ethel. I pictured her breaking down and crying now that her birds were gone. But she seemed so content to have them gone.

"Don't you miss them?" I asked.

"Well, I think they saw that someone had taken their place."

I didn't really understand what she meant until she stopped her knitting and looked at me.

"Me?"

She nodded.

"Would you like to see what's inside there?" she pointed at the building with the newspapered windows.

"Yes. I keep trying to bring myself to go in but I get scared every time."

She chuckled a little. "Scared? Scared of a little bit of newspaper!"

"Well why would they put newspaper over the windows unless there was something they didn't want you to see? Like corpses."

She laughed even harder. "I just like the way newspapers look. That's why I put them on the windows."

I was a little confused now. "What do you mean? Did you put the newspapers up on the windows?"

"Would you like to come in?" she asked.

Ethel slowly got up from the bench with the help of her cane and walked half way across the street to the building before turning back to look at me. "Well are you coming?" I quickly got up and followed her.

She took a key out of her pocket and turned it in the door. "You must excuse me, I haven't swept for a while."

I walked in to a room with newspaper posted from wall to wall. "What is this place?"

"This is where I live. You're so funny."

I didn't know what to say. She said it for me.

"Do you want some tea?"

I nodded.