Inflation

“Did anyone else see that?” said Max Denning, standing on a crowded San Francisco street.

His vision was blurry and the colors were changing. It was like one of those old CRT monitors gone awry. Everything was shaky.

Most people just ignored him and went about there day, but there were a few who gave him mind.

“What is it?” said one man. “What’s happening to you?”

“What do you mean?” said Denning. “Don’t you…see it?”

Sitting in the middle of the street, in a sea of haze and color was a diamond vase. It was shaped like a vase, but it glowed. And no one else could see it. Or so one would presume.

“Oh my God,” said Denning. “Why can’t anybody else see this?”

The vase was there one instant and gone the next. Then, it would reappear. The lights and colors swirling around it like some sort of painting spinning on the center of a pin.

“What is that?” said Denning.

He reached his hand out to touch it. Not knowing what it was or from whence it came. Not knowing his own power, he began to feel his strength increase. Power exited the vase and entered him through his fingers.

He proceeded to pick the vase up and then, suddenly, he felt extremely heavy. His arms and his body drooped, the vase draining his energy.

Denning began to walk around, his every step heavy like lead. It led him to believe that he had been commandeered by some unknown force.

“Oh, my goodness, what is this feeling?” said Denning.

A week later, Denning was sitting on a therapist’s chair in Midtown Manhattan, looking out the window. He’d just had a glass of water and was feeling rather lucid at the moment, but that wouldn’t stop the vision of what he saw.

The therapist, Dirk Rutherford, was sitting in the seat behind him.

“So, you say you picked up the vase,” said Rutherford. “Was that it?”

“What do you mean, ‘Was that it’?” said Denning. “It was everything. It was…transcendent.”

“Well, you can transcend all you want. Just keep your feet on the ground.”

“Of course, my feet aren’t on the ground,” said Denning. “I’m lying on this…Oh my God!”

“What is it?” said Rutherford. “What’s happening?”

Denning began to stir. It appeared as if something had just occurred to him which seemed urgent. He began to stand up and then, remembering that he had taken his Stacys off, sat back down on the therapist’s couch to put them on.

“Oh my God,” said Denning. “I can’t believe it.”

Suddenly, Denning was walking down the street at a brisk pace. He made it all the way to the local train station and rode the train back home. His building was in an up-and-coming area of Brooklyn. The houses were decorated for the winter holidays as children caroled in the streets.

“Oh my God,” said Denning to himself. “I hope I’m not too late!”

Suddenly, Denning came home to his apartment building in Brooklyn. Walking up the stairs quickly, he made it to the third floor. When there, he began to slow. It seemed as though he were unsure of himself and of what to do when he got there.

He got to door 304. His apartment. On the door, there was located a bright orange notice with black lettering. It read “EVICTED” in bold letters.

“Oh, God,” said Denning, leaning his head against the wall next to the door. “I can’t believe I forgot to pay my rent. How much worse could it get?”

“We were all worried about what happened to you,” said a voice from across the hall.

Denning looked up to see a luxurious redheaded woman standing there, her door ajar behind her. She had her arms folded and was in a relaxed stance. Denning just stood there. He didn’t have the heart to say it, nor did he ever want to ask.

A few minutes later, Denning was in her apartment and they were sitting at her dining room table. Each one had a tea cup and saucer in from of them, filled with a steamy liquid.

Margaret Tobe had her cat in her lap, stroking its fur.

“So, what happened to you?” said Tobe. “I heard you…jumped the shark.”

“Well, the rumors of my insanity are highly exculpatory.”

“Exculpatory or not, you should get checked out by a doctor.”

“That’s what I was doing before I became homeless…”

Denning gave her a look that seemed to suggest that he might have asked her if she had a spare room, or a spare bedside. He would have asked, that is, if he didn’t know their history.

“Well, are you okay, Max?” said Tobe, sipping her hot beverage.

“I don’t know. I just…I can’t understand. It was all so…real. It was all so…vivid.”

“What does it all mean? Where are we all going?”

“It’s not that bad, after all, is it?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean, things don’t just get bad. They go sideways. A least there is a back-and-forth. Nothing ever changes when adjusted for inflation.”

“Well, is that the truth, or is that just what you’re telling me?”

Denning didn’t know anymore. He looked over at the edge of the table and saw a diamond vase, just like the one he’d seen that day in San Francisco.

He jumped.

“Oh, my God!”

“What is it?”

“It’s the vase! The hideous vase!”

“What vase? This one?” Tobe gestured towards the vase, her cat breaking free and sauntering away on the shag carpet.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a vase?”

“I didn’t know they were so heavily regulated.”

Denning saw the error of his ways and began his retreat.

“I’m sorry,” said Denning. “I don’t know what’s come over me.”

“It’s quite alright,” said Tobe.

“I guess I’m just getting too old.”

“Aren’t you in your early thirties?”

“Oh, thirty is the new sixty.”

“Or, so I’ve heard.”

|