Paul got off the bus and adjusted his backpack. He hated taking the long ride from Harlem to Long Island City, Queens, but it was a necessary evil. After hitting the corner bodega for a six-pack of Corona and a Dutch Master, he began his nine-block hike. He could’ve stayed on the bus for another ten minutes and gotten off closer to his destination, but Paul enjoyed walking. It allowed him to clear his mind and take in the feel of the area.

During his walk, he observed the sights and sounds of the foreign land and couldn’t help but think how different Queens was from any other borough. Though Queens was a part of New York City it was only so in name. It lacked the grittiness of Brooklyn or the historical feel of Harlem. The bowels of Queens were more or less like the neighborhoods of any other city, but the farther out you went, the more it was like being in the suburbs.

Marlene owned a three-bedroom brick house in Long Island City. He walked through the little iron fence and up the driveway to the varnished front door. After taking a moment to listen, he let himself in. On the outside it didn’t look much different than the other half-dozen houses on the block, but the inside was laced. Big-screen televisions, marble floors. Marlene had gone all out with the decor.

He placed his bag by the front door and removed his shoes. Marlene had this thing about tracking up her floors and was quick to bark on violators of the no shoes rule. Descending the few steps past the foyer, he made his way to the kitchen. Everything in the kitchen was steel, giving it a hospital/cafeteria feel. Taking a beer from the box, he placed the other five in the refrigerator and headed into the living room.

The dim lights shining on the white furniture highlighted the fabric’s specs of gold. The fifty-inch television was on CNN, but the sound was muted. Crossing the plush living room, and passing through the glass doors, Paul entered what Marlene liked to call her sanctuary. It consisted of a desk, a small television, and an entertainment system. The soft sounds of Faith Evans hummed through the speakers as he passed them. Jasmine filled the air, with a hint of chronic underlying. As soon as he smelled it, he knew what time it was. Marlene only smoked when she was stressed. On the Italian leather recliner, dressed in a bathrobe, with her hair freshly wrapped, sat the lady of the house.