Julie did what she did every night, hungry or not, she forced herself to eat. She opened the fridge and peeked in, peering over abundance of plastic food containers full of Mexican, Indian, Thai and African food. She sighed. She knew she always made the mistake of cooking more than she should. Unsatisified, she slammed the door closed.
Something came over Julie, although she was not conscious of what it was. Instead of drinking until she passed out on this dreaded day of hers, Julie grabbed her coat and went to the market. She was going to cook herself her Greek meal tonight, even if it almost killed her.
On the walk back from shopping, Julie started to lose confidence about her ambition to somewhat celebrate her birthday tradition. She didn't have the right to celebrate the day her entire family was killed did she? "I'll just cook the food, and then go to bed. Maybe I won't even eat it. Or I can take it to work tomorrow for everyone," she was trying to justify her actions, and she knew it. The fire was five years ago to the day. And she had no one there to be with her. Everyone she had loved, everyone that loved her was dead. Everyone else she had pushed away.
Julie did something then that she never really did. Instead of going through the front entrance of her apartment, she walked through the back alley to the back door. It didn't even cross Julie's mind that she was doing something out of the ordinary until she was halfway up the staircase when the apples fell out of the top of the bag and toppled down the steps.
"Shit!" Julie exclaimed. Her face was burning red, this was something she had a hard time tolerating. It was then Julie realized she was at the back door and not the front.
"Why did I come this way?" she said aloud. Ignoring her own question, she placed the bag on the staircase and went down to pick up the apples.
When Julie reached the bottom, she heard a whimper coming from under the staircase. She gasped quietly, her heartbeat quickened, and she started to sweat. Then she thought, if some psychotic serial killer wanted to make her a victim, she would welcome the death. Her life meant nothing to her anyways. Julie crept under the staircase to find a bunched up dirty blanket there. Thinking nothing of it, Julie picked it up to toss it in the dumpster across the alley. What she found under the blanket was a dirty, sleeping little boy.