From Your Everyday Human
Chapter 1
Felicity Minnow was what you would call average. A little over thirty years old, Felicity found herself living somewhat successfully, on societie's terms, in a New York City penthouse, with a good job, with an even better salary, a pet cat named Rufus, and a four-post, curtain-drawn bed. She lived exactly 4 blocks from a cafe/bakery, and frequented every morning on her way to work. A day was not a good day without a poppy-seed bagel and a hot chocolate mixed with Brazilian coffee.
Where did she work, you may ask? She worked for some important firm doing some sort of beaurocratic something or other. She had, as we know, worked her way up in the ranks due to her having a young redheaded secretary named Lorielle, and a group of people trying to work to make her happy.
Felicity Minnow was well-tempered, usually. Ordinary, some might say. She was taller than some, shorter than others. She has short blond hair. Too short to wave on it's own. Most who are her neighbors would say she seems nice. "She is shy" says Imogene Blacklock, her landlady.
Felicity was not involved with any man, or anyone else for that matter. Her closest friend was her secretary and her cat. Mainly her cat of course. He was always there for her when she needed someone. WIth Lorielle, Felicity could not tell whether she would bring her dinner when she was sick out of love, or just plain sucking-up.
Felicity started her days by going to Bruno's, the cafe/bakery. She then would eat, go to the metro station, take her tracks to the plaza where she worked, and then she would take the elevator to the 17th floor, where her office was, which had a magnificent view of the street. One of Felicity's oddities was that she LOVED to people watch. At Bruno's, at any streetside restaurant, and espeacially at work. When no one was around, and when she sent Lorielle on some hunt for an unimportant file, Felicity would swiftly withdraw a very well hidden pair of binoculars that were stashed in the wooden desk. She would go to the window and lift up the high-powerd spying device just in order to catch a glimpse at the local hot-dog vendor, Stewie sneeze on his ketchup and mustard bottles, or a young couple come out of the local live theater in eachother's arms.
More than anything, Felicity felt as though she wanted love. Love was what she searched for...mentally. She was usually too shy and uninterested to say anything to people around her. So she just seemed to settle for sitting on the couch with a bowl of ice-cream and nutella in her lap as she watched old romanitc love-films from the late 40's and early 50's, while Rufus sat loyally at her side.
Some nights, Felicity would go to the roof of her building wrapped up in a blanket. She would just sit and look at the night sky and city lights. She lived very much near Washington Square. She always thought that the City had a magic at night. At some point a person was always awake on that island. She would think of her life while sitting on her roof. She would cry for the parents she lost, for the brother she never talked to, for her former fiance who she ran away from, and for her child that she lost in birth some years ago. That was seemingly the only time she broke down and gave in to feelings, on that rooftop.
If there was a God in Felicity's life, she never knew him, nor cared to. She was somewhat comfortable in her life in many ways, in others not. She could be stubborn, but humble. She was a woman of so many different feelings and emotions, that those around her felt and thought that she barely had any. Felicity Minnow was, of course, so human, and as all humans do, she has a story like the rest of us.
Where did she work, you may ask? She worked for some important firm doing some sort of beaurocratic something or other. She had, as we know, worked her way up in the ranks due to her having a young redheaded secretary named Lorielle, and a group of people trying to work to make her happy.
Felicity Minnow was well-tempered, usually. Ordinary, some might say. She was taller than some, shorter than others. She has short blond hair. Too short to wave on it's own. Most who are her neighbors would say she seems nice. "She is shy" says Imogene Blacklock, her landlady.
Felicity was not involved with any man, or anyone else for that matter. Her closest friend was her secretary and her cat. Mainly her cat of course. He was always there for her when she needed someone. WIth Lorielle, Felicity could not tell whether she would bring her dinner when she was sick out of love, or just plain sucking-up.
Felicity started her days by going to Bruno's, the cafe/bakery. She then would eat, go to the metro station, take her tracks to the plaza where she worked, and then she would take the elevator to the 17th floor, where her office was, which had a magnificent view of the street. One of Felicity's oddities was that she LOVED to people watch. At Bruno's, at any streetside restaurant, and espeacially at work. When no one was around, and when she sent Lorielle on some hunt for an unimportant file, Felicity would swiftly withdraw a very well hidden pair of binoculars that were stashed in the wooden desk. She would go to the window and lift up the high-powerd spying device just in order to catch a glimpse at the local hot-dog vendor, Stewie sneeze on his ketchup and mustard bottles, or a young couple come out of the local live theater in eachother's arms.
More than anything, Felicity felt as though she wanted love. Love was what she searched for...mentally. She was usually too shy and uninterested to say anything to people around her. So she just seemed to settle for sitting on the couch with a bowl of ice-cream and nutella in her lap as she watched old romanitc love-films from the late 40's and early 50's, while Rufus sat loyally at her side.
Some nights, Felicity would go to the roof of her building wrapped up in a blanket. She would just sit and look at the night sky and city lights. She lived very much near Washington Square. She always thought that the City had a magic at night. At some point a person was always awake on that island. She would think of her life while sitting on her roof. She would cry for the parents she lost, for the brother she never talked to, for her former fiance who she ran away from, and for her child that she lost in birth some years ago. That was seemingly the only time she broke down and gave in to feelings, on that rooftop.
If there was a God in Felicity's life, she never knew him, nor cared to. She was somewhat comfortable in her life in many ways, in others not. She could be stubborn, but humble. She was a woman of so many different feelings and emotions, that those around her felt and thought that she barely had any. Felicity Minnow was, of course, so human, and as all humans do, she has a story like the rest of us.