The Vagueness

The stairs creaked beneath Faron’s feet as the room seemingly and simultaneously dropped in temperature, despite the Air conditioning unit reading 72 degrees. If this hadn’t been business as usual, Faron might have even been startled – as he was when he first moved into the studio apartment in the cool, dry Colorado climate. Faron’s cat, Lucio, sat fixated - staring into the soul of something that wasn’t quite there. Lucio finally started to meow. “It’s no use. They’re not going anywhere.” Faron said as he poured himself a bowl of cereal. He grabbed for the oat-milk and frowned upon realizing there was approximately six drops left. He let out a heavy sigh. Another trip to the grocery store was the last thing his vanishing budget needed. He had underestimated how much more costly everything would be in Colorado. “I don’t suppose you could help pitch in for rent?” He asked the void. The void did not respond. This “paid” internship was going to bleed him dry.

Faron, however humble his income was, knew that he was lucky to get the internship – this opportunity was going to open a lot of doors for him in the long-run; until then, however, he surmised a part-time job might be unavoidable. Despite Faron’s work being in Denver (an almost hour away in traffic going southbound) the closest housing Faron could even remotely afford was located in Loveland. He had been frustrated with the commute at first, but having now gotten used to it, soon began to appreciate the sheer beauty Loveland had to offer. Loveland was also inherently less hectic than Denver, and soon he began to prefer it. Faron had also warmed up to “the vagueness”, as he sometimes referred to it as. Now the only element of his new life he still hadn’t gotten used to at this point, was the altitude; however, he speculated it was only a matter of time.

Lucio started meowing and began to run at top speed in various directions inside the small space, with no inclination that he would stop. The studio itself was not too cramped, if it had been just Faron and Lucio, the apartment would be just spacious enough (and an appropriate temperature!). However, with the lingering guest occupying it, the studio felt much, much smaller. Faron wandered his thoughts from his inevitable trip to the market and his unfortunate, ever-growing grocery list, to speculate as to why Claudia was unable to leave.

Claudia was the other name for the vagueness, after having discovered her name within the first week of occupying the new space. Finding out her name had not been difficult; Claudia had perhaps wanted him to know. The studio was old – relatively antiquated compared to the brand-new apartment complexes and condominiums that started shaping Loveland the past ten years. While the apartment had not been renovated anytime recently, it was a bargain by contrast, and the studio boasted immense character. Faron and Lucio did not need all the bells and whistles of a fancy condo, this lifestyle suited them just fine. Apparently, Claudia had the same inclinations, having not wanting to leave it, even after death.

The first time Claudia “spoke” to Faron, had been only two short days after his arrival. The lights flickered in the hallways, and Faron surmised that the bulbs were on their last moments of life. However, once he arrived to inspect the hanging bulbs, they seemed to have decided there was no more juice left to give. Turning towards the hallway entrance, Faron noticed a small, framed, old-fashioned picture hanging on the wall just under the artificial light. The framed photo looked as if it belonged on the wall, not daring to stand out. The photo had not caught Faron’s eye previously, having fit in with the rest of the décor seamlessly and inconspicuously. Since he didn’t want baggage to weigh him down and elongate the process of the employment opportunity of a lifetime, he had specifically requested a furnished apartment, and sold most of everything he had. He took a closer look at the photo and noticed that it was a portrait. The subject of the portrait was a dark-skinned, lovely woman, with a pinned-up typical 1940’s hairstyle. The woman donned a short-sleeved, long, collared dress, and seemed to be in mid-laughter; her smile broad enough to show all the whites of her teeth. Faron decided to take the photo out of its coveted frame and, upon further inspection, observed an inscription on the bottom-right corner of the back of the portrait:

“To my darling daughter Claudia, may the world never break your spirit. I love you more than I love the sun that give us life. I love you more than the fresh Colorado air gives breath. May the world never cease to show you its beauty, and may the moon never be afraid to show you her face when you feel overcome with darkness. I give you this photo, so you always know I am with you, even in the vagueness beyond.

- El”

“The vagueness” Thought Faron, what a spectacular word to describe death. Death felt so final, so finite – but “the vagueness” implied something beyond life, something to one day explore and discover. A lightbulb of his own went off: The vagueness' name must be Claudia.

Indeed, it had been easy to discover Claudia’s name, but it was another matter entirely on how she entered the vagueness in the first place; Perhaps he would never know. The alarm on his cell phone went off, forcing his attention from the vagueness to the physical plane. If he didn’t leave in the next fifteen minutes, he was going to be late for work. Faron had been employed by Williamson Brothers’ Publishing Co. for six weeks now, even moving to Colorado once the job was secured, in order to pursue this first step of his career. The internship was originally unpaid. However, since the original owner had travelled into the vagueness for himself, his two sons stepped up to take over the company. The Williamson brothers renamed the publishing enterprise, and – being a good deal more progressive than their father – decided to re-open the position as a “paid-internship”. “No one should have to work for free” Thomas had remarked when Faron asked about the status change. Thomas was right, as he often was. Regardless, the position only paid $1,500 a month, which all but covered rent.

Making a promise to himself that he would scour local sources for a part-time job after work, Faron fed Lucio and bolted out the door. “Bye Claudia!” He yelled before the door slammed shut behind him. It was a crisp 62 degrees, he breathed in the fresh air of Loveland before making his way over to his car. He speculated as his gaze casted over the mountaintops blanketed with snow:

‘I wonder what this vagueness has in store for me’.