About three days ago I went down to Micheal’s to get frames for some drawings. On my way back I saw some prescription bottles lined up on a rail in front of a store window. It caught my attention so I got a closer look. The bottles were generics of klonopin and prozac, the same combo I was given when I first got stabilized. They were also pretty full. I saw an address printed on the bottle that was only a block away, and Chelsea being a nicer residential area than what I’m used to there was a 50/50 chance there would be a door person I could leave this with.
My instincts were correct. It wasn’t the fanciest building — seemed like a tenement that had been overhauled a bit so they could hike up the rent—but they had placed a desk in the little lobby and a man signing in visitors. “Excuse me is there a [redacted] living in this building?”I asked, not completely sure how to approach this.
“Yeah why, is she in some kind of trouble?” he said. Not very encouraging.
“I don’t know who she is, but I found these around the corner with this address on them.” I took the bottles out of my pants pocket and put them on the desk of the now wide-eyed concierge, who began to say “Ohhh maybe this is why she’s been having troubles today. Wandering the hallways. Where did you find them?”
I told him and he thanked me. He was trying to call up to her apartment as I left. The tone of concern in his voice made me wonder if she was a kid or an elderly person, if she had anyone living there with her. I hope this turned out ok.
Here’s one of the images I framed for an upcoming art show: