That's What They Say

2. In which nothing much happens

As Henry rode the subway home, he read the papers he had been given. This proved to be difficult, because the old man sitting next to him kept craning to see what he was reading, knocking off Henry’s glasses with the brim of his battered brown hat in the process.
Henry shifted to the side as he felt the man’s breath on the side of his neck once more. He was finding it a bit hard to focus.
--Therefore, the duties of the Spreader will consist, in addition to aforementioned matters, of the monitoring of possible—
He flinched as his companion coughed phlegmily next to him. “Hate, hate, hate the subway…” Henry muttered, and pressed his forehead to the window. The accrued fingerprints of ages made his skin stick slightly to the glass.
The flashing lights outside were slowing down as the train came to a stop.
“Meyersville. Caution. Doors are—OPENING. Ding.”
Henry stood up gratefully, and stuffed his paper into the dank pocket of his large jacket. The doors opened, letting in a great gust of slightly urine-scented air. He breathed in gladly, and exited the train.
“Caution. Doors are—CLOSING. Please do not lean on doors. Next stop—“ The creepy automated voice cut off as the train whirred away into the blackness of the tunnel.
Henry looked around for the escalator, and was met with an OUT OF ORDER sign.
“Oh, alright,” he sighed. “That’s only like, what, 200 steps?” He fought through the press of people waiting for their train and started to climb the high stairs that led to the top. The square of sunlight at the top looked very, very far away indeed.

The somewhat busy streets of Meyersville suddenly acquired a Henry.
He leaned against a low cement wall and fought to get his breath back. Although Henry was thin, he wasn’t at all in shape. Even the thought of exercise made him shudder, so climbing that many stairs had been tantamount to torture.
It had started raining an hour or so ago, and Henry’s vision was rapidly obscured as raindrops pelted down on his glasses. He sighed, and shielded his eyes. It was only a short taxi ride to his house, but the only money he had was a slightly sticky dime in the bottom of his left pocket. He had initially brought enough cash to get him home, but he had lost his fare card for the subway at some point that morning, and had been forced to use all his money to buy another one.
So, unless he wanted to hitchhike with some of the slightly scary people that roamed Meyersville’s streets, he would have to walk the two miles home. This was an unpleasant enough prospect by itself, and the rain wasn’t helping anything.
This wasn’t Henry’s day. But then again, it never was.

An hour later, a bedraggled figure lurched through the door of no. 3487 Monroe Street. Henry was completely and utterly soaked through. The slight rainfall had suddenly turned into a torrential downpour half an hour ago, and proceeded to drench everything in its path. When Henry had ducked under an awning to dry off, the canvas had literally collapsed, dumping several gallons of water straight onto his head. This had put Henry in an extremely foul mood, and now he really, really wanted to die. Or, more accurately, he wanted the awning-maker to die. Painfully.
After Henry had taken off his coat and put it in a nice orderly heap on the floor, he called out, “Teapot!”
Although randomly calling out words such as “teapot” can often be a hallmark of insanity, Henry had a reason. Teapot was in fact his cat.
Teapot poked her head around the corner and hissed.
“Hi, Teapot! Sorry I’m late. Is-ums hungwy?”
Henry had always loved cats. He adored Teapot, and was constantly buying her fluffy pillows and little squeaking mousie toys. Really, it was unfortunate that Teapot in fact hated Henry with all her heart.
She had originally been the cat of a little old lady named Linette. Linette had been extremely rich and even more batty, but she had pampered Teapot (formerly known as Jacqueline) ridiculously. One day, Jacqueline had run away. She did this a lot, because Linette always fed her extra when she returned. But unfortunately, Linette had never bought her pet a collar. Jacqueline was in the shelter almost instantly. There, she became acquainted with a friendly young volunteer named Henry, who adopted her and called her Teapot. She despised him.
Teapot was snatched up and forcibly hugged by Henry as he made his way to the kitchen. He was so used to Teapot's dull hatred of everything by now that he automatically shifted to keep from getting clawed.
Teapot growled and lashed out, but Henry twitched his face to the side and remained unharmed. He was blissfully unaware of the mad gleam in his cat's eyes as he set her down on the table and opened a can of foul-smelling cat food that claimed to be a "poultry banquet." It looked as though someone had already eaten it.
Henry scraped the stuff out of its can and into a festive mouse-shaped dish emblazoned with "World's Best Kitty!"
The World's Best Kitty watched balefully, and hissed when the dish was set in front of her.
"Mmm, yummy," Henry cried, despite the fact that the food had now started to ooze horribly. "Eat up!"
Teapot cleaned her ears disdainfully, but took a bite of the food when Henry wasn't looking.
Henry went back into the kitchen and rooted around for something more suited to the human palate. He managed to scrape together a potted-meat sandwich, although the bread looked highly suspicious and was rather spongy.
Henry made a mental note to buy more groceries before he, too, was eating dubious canned chicken.
As he munched on his sandwich, he watched the rain pelt down outside. Cars rushed by, and were obscured by the water their tires kicked up as they skidded around the corner. The sky was a dull gray, slightly pearly where the sun was obscured by rainclouds.
Henry finished his sandwich and absently pushed the plate away from him. Teapot ambled over and ate the breadcrusts.