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Unfinished Business

Jenene Ravesloot

    A skin of bright sunlight and bruised shadows cling to buildings along Michigan Avenue. The Pier’s Centennial Wheel glints in the distance. It’s windy down there on the street and chilly up here. I can feel it through the double-glazed windows that run along the length and width of the condo. Believe me, it’s not the air conditioning I’m feeling. Yep! Everyone says that I’ve got a swell view of Lake Michigan. As far as I’m concerned, I’d be happier in a cave. It would be quieter, especially at night when the biker gangs take over the Avenue. What a racket! But I’ve inherited this place and some money too, so I’m stuck looking out a row of windows twenty-six floors up and thinking this weather isn’t right because it’s way too cold today and it’s going to be way too hot tomorrow, and what about this weekend? I have to laugh. It’s come to this. Nothing else to think about except this damn weather and the Greek alphabet. Nothing else to really complain about.

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