It started to rain. I think it was a bad omen. I can't really be sure though because it's always raining here. I didn't even have an umbrella with me, so I pulled the hood of my raincoat as far over my head and face as it would go. I was actually wearing make-up today and I didn't want it to get ruined. I was also wearing heels. That's not really a good idea when it's raining. I realized that after about the fourth time I slid through a puddle of water.

They weren't even my shoes. They were my mom's. She didn't wear them very much either. She only kept them around in case somebody died and she needed something to wear to the funeral. Oh, great, I thought, I'm wearing my mother's funeral shoes. Was that cosmically ironic or what?

I was glaring down at the offending shoes when I nearly bumped into someone. Quickly stepping back, I glanced up, mumbled an apology, and skirted around the startled man. A few steps later I realized I knew him. He was that real nerdy guy that was always coming into the Cafe and ordering two regular coffees to go. I turned to give him a more polite hello, but he was already lost in the crowd. I shrugged and moved on toward my destination.

I'm not exactly sure how long I stood outside the building staring at the revolving door. It seemed like forever though. I just stood there. I silently watched all of these people going in and out. They were all dress in their suits and ties with shiny shoes and leather briefcases. I watched them go round and round encased in glass and metal. I watched so long and so intently that I actually became too terrified to go inside the building. I was literally too scared to move. It wasn't just nervous-scared either. It was scared-scared. So I just stood there like some kind of idoit staring at this door. The only thing I could think of was that scene in Dante's "Inferno". The one where all the condemned people are forced to walk round and round in these tiny little circles. There was no rest and no conversation. They were mindless with boredom. Then I started to imagine myself stuck in a revolving door for the rest of eternity. Just moving round and round with no means of escape. I could even imagine people coming to see the 'Revolving-door girl'. They would charge admission. Little kids would stare and point. And the whole time I would be wondering, Why doesn't somebody help me? I shuddered at the thought.

I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. You can do this, I reassured myself. You just have to . . .I gulped. You have to walk in really fast and get it over with. It was at that exact moment that I happened to notice, from the corner of my eye, there were some people staring at me. It was also that exact moment that I realized I was talking to myself. Not only that, but I was doing it while standing in the middle of the crowded sidewalk. I turned and looked at the curious pedestrians with questioning eyes.

Amazingly enough, I think I even recognized one of them. He was a middle-aged guy with tattered jeans and a Harley Davidson shirt. I think I might have served him once at the Cafe, too. Well anyway, I smiled sheepishly to cover my own stupidity. He grinned back before turning and flashing a thumb at the oncoming traffic.

There were still a few people staring so I gave them my best 'what do you think you're looking at?' face. Fortunately, they took the hint and moved along. Or maybe it wasn't so fortunate. I was left alone with the door again. The thought occurred to me that this was probably the most assinine thing that could ever happen to a person. Afraid of a door?! I decided I really was the biggest idiot on the planet. I could just see Dip right about now. She'd get a real kick out of this. "Hi, my name is True. And I'm afraid of a door." It's actually very funny when you think about it.

Hesitantly, I took a step forward and . . . stopped. Idiot! I took another deep breath, bravely squared my shoulders, and quickly pushed my way through the door. I hastily stumbled into a lobby full of people. Sadly, my purse did not follow the same course. It was caught precariously between the moving glass and the wall. Desperately, I worked to free it. I yanked and pulled to no avail. Finally, I braced a foot against the wall and pulled with all my weight. Well, it worked. My bag was free, the door was spinning, and I was falling backwards. Being the klutz that I am, I've noticed that it takes forever to reach the ground when you know people are watching you fall. This was no exception. To my own surprise, I had enough time to right myself before I actually did hit the ground. Holding my head high, I took a few stumbling footsteps before regaining my full equalibrium. Several people had turned to see what all the comotion was about. I smiled with a radiant, nonchalant ease and nodded a greeting to the closest few. Squaring my shoulders again, I straightened my skirt, reajusted my purse strap, and moved toward the large counter enclosed the center of the room.

Patiently, I waited for the receptionist to hang up the phone. When her conversation was completed, she prompted became sorting through a stack of files on her desk. She did not even spare me a glance. "Excuse me," I said politely.

She still didn't look up.

"Excuse me," I repeated.

Nothing.

What am I? Invisible? I wondered.

Suddenly a tall, distinguished gentleman stepped up beside me. "Do I have any messages?" he asked impatiently. The receptionist finally looked up and smiled brightly. "Yes, sir. Here you go." I rolled my eyes and watched the 'suit' walk off with his newly acquired messages. Turning back toward the receptionist, I found her watching me expectantly. "May I help you?"

"Uh-huh, yes, I hope so. I have an interview today."

"And your name would be . . .?" I sighed. Here it comes. "True MacAlister," I told her reluctantly.

"I'm sorry. Did you say Drew?"

"True."

She slowly shook her head as if she were reluctant to believe me. "True?"

"Yes, ma'am." She wasn't old or anything. I just threw in the 'ma'am' to piss her off. It didn't work though.

"True? As in . . .?"

That did it. I decided to go with the 'so you're dumber than dirt' routine. "True. As in, yes it's true, my name is True. True MacAlister."

"Very well then." She smiled tightly before consulting a list on her desk. She chuckled softly to herself. "Well, it's true. Your name is True." She smiled gaily.

I didn't smile back.

She cleared her throat nervously. "Yes, Miss MacAlister, you're expected up on the ninth floor. The elevators are right around the corner there. You can just go on up."

"Thank you," I replied tightly. Then I moved around the corner toward the elevators.

True Love MacAlister

The Muse Introduction