Post 11

It had been exactly 3 hours since Mr. Orange had left. Otis had all his things backed in his meager plaid suitcase. He wore his old leather jacket. His mind wandered. The nostalgic mist rose away from his mind. He thought of his possibilities. The things he could do. He could move Italy and see the homeland. He could move to Australia and start a new life. Looking at his watch and seeing he had 1 hour left he opened his apartment door. He glanced back into his old, bland apartment. It looked the same as when he first got there. It felt good to leave. As he walked down the hallway and out the front door, he thought about the mysterious Mr. Orange. How did Mr. Orange know exactly what he needed? It made him worry that someone was watching him the whole time. He walked to Bus Station 17, which turned out to be practically empty. He bought a ticket and waited. By then, his worries had drifted away. He was thankful for someone to give him a push. When the bus arrived, he was the only one to get on. The bus drove away and Otis got comfortable in his seat. It new life was beginning.

Post 10

It had been a week since Otis saw the ghost of his father. Otis continued mopping, sitting in his secluded apartment, thinking about the past and looking for answers. A few hours had past in midmorning when Otis had a visitor. He was reading a story in the local newspaper about a recent shooting when there was a knock on the door. Otis ignored it at first, but more knocks followed until Otis got up and answered the door. A man in a black and white suit and a funny looking bald head stood before him. "What do you want." Otis muttered. "I apologize, but I was wondering if you had a spare light bulb. I was in the middle of something important and the light went out." "No, I do not. Go bother someone else." And with that Otis promptly shut the door. Immediately afterward there was another sequence of knocks. Otis opened the door once more. It was the same stranger. This time the stranger entered the room without hesitation. "I don't know who you are but I suggest being more polite to your neighbors, especially if you don't know who your dealing with. Now, I'll ask again. Do you have any spare lightbulbs?" Tensions rose in the room. The door was still open. Otis noticed this and shut the door. "Look, I'm not trying to cause trouble. But you don't know who you are dealing with. Get out of my apartment before someone gets hurt." Otis moved toward the man. With that the bald man pulled out a snub nose .38 and pointed it at the center of Otis' gut. "You're not in any position to make threats. Lets start this over. Who are you?" "Otis." "Otis what?" "Otis Baumer." "Tell me Otis, what do you do?" "I have no job." "Then, what do you do, Otis. Sit in this apartment all day?" There was silence in the room. Otis looked back on his past few weeks here in this miserable apartment. He had no purpose in life. He was accomplishing nothing and was continuing down that path. Otis lowered his head in shame, no longer afraid. The silence and gesture was all the man needed. He put away the gun. "My name is Mr. Orange. Tell me, why are you here? In this town." Otis didn't know what to say. He had been living a lie his whole life. He just now fully understood that, but this Mr. Orange could see it from within the first few moments that they had met. "I am here to get over some things I have done. Things I cannot tell you about." "That is no reason to not be living your life. I have done unspeakable things, trust me," Mr. Orange patted his pistol, "but you must not let those things consume your life. Get over it. I'll tell you what, leave this dump. You have exactly 5 hours. Go do something with your life. Forget about the lightbulb." With that Mr. Orange left, leaving Otis alone in his surprisingly quiet and lonely apartment.