Rita

True story.

I walk up to the rental agency to turn in the keys to the beach house. A guy is standing on the steps outside the door, clearly eager to go inside but trying to wait patiently. I lean to the side so I can see around him. A brunette woman in a white dress is studying with great concentration some travel folders that the rental agency has unfortunately put in the corner right next to the door. The man can't open the door without hitting her.

Through the glass, I hear a male voice, "Rita, move!" I can't spot its source.

The woman in white steps forward into the corner. She never turns to either side, so all I can see is her profile.

The man ahead of me opens the door, and we both enter the agency. We join the check-out line, which fortunately at the moment is just a single guy.

The pleasant agent working the desk thanks him for his business, and he leaves. The guy in front of me steps forward, and she greets him as nicely as she dispatched the previous customer. I stay back a few steps; no point in invading their privacy.

A few seconds later, I hear a male voice, which inside the small building is quite booming. "Rita, move!"

I glance behind me in time to see Rita step forward into the corner of the building. She again turns neither left nor right, so I see only her rear, which is unremarkable. The renter exits the building and three more people take the opportunity to enter at the same time.

The man in front of me finishes and leaves. I step forward, hand over my key, and wait for it.

Sure enough, in a few seconds a male voice booms, "Rita, move!"

I check all around me, but I can't spot anyone obviously watching Rita.

The rental agent declares everything hunky dory, so I thank her and head for the door.

Rita is blocking it, still intent on the vacation brochures.

I turn to scan the building, but before I can make it all the way around, the voice booms out, "Rita, move!" For a moment I consider standing my ground, making the voice tell me to move, finally learning its source, but I quickly abandon the notion; I've come to love the whole idea of Rita and the voice.

I leave.

As I walk back to my idling car and the three friends waiting inside, I glance back over my shoulder.

Rita is standing in front of the door.