The Unlucky Incident of the Cursed Alarm Clock

The humid summer air seemed to have arms of its own, immediately clinging and forming a moist layer on her skin as she pushed past the revolving glass doors. She groaned in discomfort and untucked her dress shirt to allow air to circulate upwards. It was the same damn dress shirt that had humiliated her at work today. 

It all started with that cursed alarm clock her coworker Kevin gifted her as a birthday present last week. She was quite alarmed upon receiving it. Didn’t he know that gifting a clock was bad luck? She had inherited her overly superstitious Chinese mother’s habits over the years.

But to be fair it was a beautiful clock, a rusty gold color with intricate floral designs along the sides. She had also mentioned she was in search of a new one as she had angrily slapped her old one off her bedside on a particularly difficult awakening one morning. 

But the damn thing failed to set off today and she’d woken up an hour late, birdnest hair and crusty eye booger and all. In a scramble to get dressed, she had skipped the first button of her dress shirt, leaving a crooked collar at the neck.

Of course, Kevin had to point that out in the middle of her presentation. “Oh Jenny, your buttons!” he had irritatingly exclaimed in amusement.

Her face had flushed a deep red amidst her coworkers’ stares. The sudden humiliation had left her finishing her presentation in a stuttering, incoherent mess. 

She and Kevin were both candidates for the same promotion and it was the day of the performance evaluations. That clock was sabotage. She just knew it! She’d be sure to chuck it when she got home. 

She sighed deeply as if it would release the horrid memory that she had played over and over again throughout the workday. 

5 pm rush hour in New York City was always crowded, especially in the Flatiron District where she worked. Though she’d always enjoyed the hustle-bustle of the city, it often made her feel insignificant and small. 

Usually, she would take her time to scrutinize passerbys. Sandals over socks? Ick! Eating on the streets? Bleh! A Burberry purse? Hmmm. 

She didn’t think she was unkind, she was merely honest. 

Yet today she stared ahead in a sullen gaze. Mother had always stressed the importance of a neat appearance. But today she looked like someone worthy of ridicule, her back stooped, dress shirt untucked, and hair matted to her skin with sweat as glue. Her flyaways were resilient though. 

Oh, what would Mother think if she saw her now?

She paid no heed to the business people in crisp suits, pedestrians with wandering gazes, or even the hot dog vendor who called out for her to, “Smile! It’s a beautiful day!” She so wanted to sour his beautiful day with her thunderstorm of gloom. She glared angrily and deepened her frown, making sure it was obvious enough for the man to see. She had always been quite rebellious in nature. 

Upon reaching the 23rd Street F train station, she hopped down the steps, pulled out her MetroCard, swiped it, and scurried to catch the next train. This pattern had become routine over the years. She was so swift at it she imagined her dancing and twirling gracefully from one obstacle course to the next, dodging and sidestepping past other competitors in her path. She’d always loved imagining the mundane repetitions of life into more lively scenarios. 

Soon, the train rumbled past, a violent wind pushing against her but she defiantly stepped closer towards it. The car that stopped in front of her opened to reveal a mass of bodies, one by one scattering out onto the platform. Like an ant colony, she thought.

She was determined to board the train but she wasn’t rude of course. Mother had raised her better than that. So she allowed others to board before her and gently shoved herself between the cracks of bodies. Times like this she was grateful for her petite stature.

The subway’s air conditioning seemed to fail against the heat of bodies pressed against her. Caging her against the doors, a middle-aged woman stood towards her left, strong and sturdy in her stance, and a large-bellied man stood towards her right, his t-shirt stained with sweat. She looked up into the man’s face and was met with a yellow-toothed open-mouthed breath. Oh, how horrid!

She immediately shuffled around so she was facing the doors instead, ignoring the annoyed grunts behind her and groaning displeasingly at her backside pressed against the bodies behind her.

At the next stop, she stepped off the train to allow others off but was shuffled further back from the platform edge. A woman tsked her for getting in the way before shoving past her. Rude! It was people like her that fulfilled the ‘rude New Yorker’ stereotype. 

She turned towards the subway entrance again and just as she was about to step on, the doors shut before her! She startled and jumped back to avoid the closing doors. 

Oh, what a wretched day! Kindness was often so cruel. She swore if another thing went wrong today she was going to… Well, she didn’t know what she would do, but surely she would be really, really upset!

She looked at the subway schedule towards the side for the next train, another eight minutes!

Mother’s voice echoed in the back of her head, “Too much whining Jenny! Too much!” 

But mother didn’t understand that none of it was her fault. She couldn’t control the bad luck Kevin’s alarm clock had emanated and seeped into every pore of her body. 

She took out the three lucky Chinese coins stashed deep within her purse and rubbed it against her palms, allowing her body to absorb their power. 

But it wasn’t enough, Kevin’s gift was too powerful, too inevitable. No matter, she would be resilient. She decided that she would take matters into her own hands. When she got home, she would stash several red envelopes into her purse, put on her lucky red pajamas, and even put her Buddha statue out on full display. Perhaps she would also give her mother a call for more lucky tips. 

She wasn’t going to let the sabotaging Kevin sour her mood! She was going to take him down, that hateful, hateful Kevin.