InsaneJournal

Her instructions for the day came every morning on one of the bulletin boards she was supposed to use to help newcomers find their families and friends. On Sunday morning Millie peered behind a picture of Steve McQueen and found the familiar scrawling handwriting of her boss standing out against yellow legal paper. Holding a steaming coffee mug in one hand, she sat down to look it over.

"Restock the machines." Did that yesterday.

"Make sure Miss. Garfield knows her four weeks are up." Obviously.

"Room 311 has a leaky faucet." I'll have to call that plumber who likes me.

"Be sure to have emergency supplies for Sat., July 9th." Oh dear, the Communists?

As if the paper could read her mind, a new note appeared almost instantly. "Not the Communists. Keep it to yourself," she muttered, reading directly from the paper. Millie took a sip of coffee and shook her head. If there was to be some sort of emergency she was glad for the advanced warning, but she would have liked to know what it was. She was responsible for thirty-six lives (the current occupancy rate at the Welcome Center) and she could only do her job properly if she knew what to expect, her boss' whims be damned!

"Darned, I mean darned," she mumbled. He tended to hear everything.

Millie settled into her chair and picked up a pencil and a pad of her own. She would have to order in the supplies needed for herself and thirty-six people. No, fifty, she decided. Just to be cautious. Who knew how many people she would be serving by then. Newcomers were arriving every day and she would have to be ready. She had written down four items when the front door of the center opened and she looked up.

"Welcome to New York! If you can make it here, you can make it anywhere!"