Marginalia

Sunset

It’s a good number of days into Sunset before Angela hears anything from Gabriel Ortega, though she works at the laborious task of cleaning his house for all of that empty time. He leaves her notes to find on her daily routes: they are an invitation, operating within an environment that carries the connotation of “work” in order to transform it into “home.” Angela is allowed and encouraged to write responses to her puzzling employer, and facilitates a dialog through the passage of time and the slow metamorphosis of the apartment into a familiar space. A search to find notes is the necessary, but not a challenge: they are placed at eye level, a visual marker to interrupt Angela’s by-now-rote routine. A personality is given to the human impetus behind a Playboy magazine bachelor pad; a calendar that is never changed; a door containing military secrets left, at times, unlocked. Occasionally these notes are apologetic and other days, they are curious. A great many inspire flirtation, and a romance is carried out through single sentences left in dark rooms and an interested sweep upon return, waiting patiently for news from a beloved. War wages in the streets outside; Angela writes back.