𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝟓 » 𝐬𝐤𝐳

𝐎𝐍𝐄

baby's headed west on a bet
got a shoebox full of 28 cassettes

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You seriously didn't realize you had so much stuff.

When your old lease was approaching its end, you'd slowly but surely started packing up in advance. At first, it didn't seem like you really needed to get rid of all that much—it wasn't like you were a hoarder or anything—and you especially didn't see the need for downsizing when you found the deal for your new apartment. It was a few square foot bigger than what you had before, plus you wouldn't have to factor in for the space a roommate would take up. That seemed to be the biggest plus of it all.

You hadn't seen rent that cheap within the past six months of any ad you'd called up. (None that weren't any bigger than a gracious spare bedroom, anyways). For sure, you thought, there'd be a long waitlist for tenancy. Something backed up that you wouldn't have a chance of ever getting your hands on. But when you called the number listed the landlord picked up on the first ring, and you don't think you've ever heard a man sound so relieved before.

Of course, you did a walk through of the apartment before signing anything. You aren't stupid, you know good deals normally come with electricity shorts or water damage; work that needs to be done that the landlord expects you to take care of. Yet, despite checking every nook and cranny of the apartment, you found nothing out of sorts.

The landlord simply shrugged his shoulders when you asked how he could list such a great apartment for such a low price, shook his head with a sigh.

"Can't keep the tenants," he'd said, "They all leave within a month. I just need someone to be a permanent resident, gotta put food on my family's table y'know."

And maybe that should've been a warning for you. Because how many tenants had he mentioned it had went through in the past year? Six? Seven? None of the surrounding apartments had went through such a slough, so why this one?

You blow out an exhale as you drop the last box of your things into the doorway of the apartment. Well, you suppose it doesn't matter now, because like hell are you lugging all this shit back to your car anytime soon.

(And after signing on for at least a two year long lease, you're pretty sure you'd have to sell your soul to get out of the contract).

Scooting the box out of the way with your foot, you shut the door to apartment five—the door to your new home—and take a look around.

It's furnished—something else that you can't help but be happily surprised about—and it doesn't look too shabby either. The lights haven't flickered once since you've come in, it doesn't reek of cigarettes or old shoes.

A slight chill runs through you and you walk over to the couch and pull your jacket off the back of it to slip it on. The a/c isn't busted either, apparently. You'll have to find the thermostat controls later.

For now, you blow out a breath as you grab the box nearest to you, you should start to unpack.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Unpacking sucks. And you have even more stuff than you remembered having. Maybe you are a bit of a hoarder after all, you decide, when you plop back on the couch after unloading what seems to be the millionth box of cds and records you forgot you even had.

The mountain of boxes across from you feels like it's mocking you right to your face. Seriously, you've been at this for hours and it feels like you haven't even made a dent!