Opportunity Knocks Again

Fiction Friday

This story first appeared 24 years ago in my now out-of-print book of essays, Where Would I Be Without Me? stories, scenes and significant others. It was first published online by P.S. I Love You on Medium. Now, the only place you can find it is right here, just for you.

Thanks for being here!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

un aperitivo. oil painting on board w/purple leaf. learn more/purchase piece.

It was a snowy day in Cleveland.

I sat alone in my much-too-large-for-only-one-person-apartment, wondering. Wondering entirely-to-intensely-about-everything-I-could-think-of.

Has anyone ever died from eating non-cooked Toll House cookie dough? How long would it take to save up enough lint to make a sweater? Would George Clooney like me? If my neighbor started secretly feeding my cat Fancy Feast, would Snookie desert me for the better meal?

If I had a significant other, would I be boring him to tears with my ponderings?

That’s when I heard a knock at the door. I race over to the peephole and look through it. I recognize the stranger from a newscast earlier in the week. He’s wanted. By everyone. He’s Opportunity.

Thank God I was home. I knew not having a life to speak of would someday pay off. How many people can say that they were actually home when Opportunity knocked?

So, naturally, I let him in, and I fixed him a drink.

Opportunity sat in my overstuffed chair, chained smoked my herbal cigarettes, and polished off my expensive bottle of vodka. He applauded me for being home and alone and available to him. He unbuttoned my blouse and licked my neck. He reeked of hope and good fortune. I could hardly breathe. He is my window that I wish to jump out of.

We ate cookie dough and sang show tunes. He knows them all.