City of Decay: The Cleaner | MxM

Chapter 10: A Precious Gift

With a groan, I open the door to my small apartment. The four flights of stairs to even get to my door drained the rest of my energy completely. I am so ready for my bed right now. But the moment I enter I have an unsettling feeling. I turn on the lights before I can properly think about it.

I tilt my head a little to the side, point my nose a little up, and take a deep breath. It smells of dried and burnt herbs, and a hint of something flowery. I don't really know what different flowers smell like, but it does smell like some kind of flower.

I'm so used to bad smells, the stench of death and decay that I don't really smell it anymore as long as it's not overwhelming. But it's different with pleasant smells – or the smell of alcohol. There is just something sour about it that tickles my nose.

But the scent I am confronted with isn't alcohol. It's... I don't really know. As silent as possible I close my door, leaving it unlocked in case I need to run from whatever might be hiding in my apartment. I remember I just unlocked it to enter, so whoever got inside didn't use the door. Or had a key. Both options are equally unsettling.

I walk down the corridor leading me away from the front door and the hall tree, praying that the old wooden floor won't give away my position. My first stop is the kitchen to the left, connected to the corridor with a rather wide, old, wooden arch. It's a very small kitchen containing only the most necessary things.

There's an old cabinet on the right wall, next to it a kitchen counter and the sink. Ahead is a small window, the black, heavy curtains are drawn. I always make sure to leave my house secured. There's no way of knowing how long I'll be gone and if the black fog hits in my absence.

It's not like I would be in danger, but the fog could linger in an enclosed space. Also, cleaning up after the fog is a pain in the ass. I know that once I open these curtains, I'll have to scrub my windows clean of the black tar.

To my left is a small light switch I flick on, and the lamp hanging in the middle of the kitchen turns on. It gives light to the small table under the window, barely big enough to fit two chairs.

However, whoever sits on the left needs to squeeze between the wall and the table. It is a very narrow room, but it's big enough for me. It's not like I have visitors over.

A few shelves and a cabinet hang on the left wall and in a little nook sits the stove. The kitchen is so narrow that I only have to turn on my heels to switch from the counter to the stove, and I like it that way. I feel safe in a small space with little possibility to hide.

I don't need to enter the kitchen to know that no one's here. It's as empty as can be. So I turn around, facing back into the corridor, and flick on the light of the bathroom before I open the door slowly.

This room is even smaller, there is nothing more but a toilet, a sink and a mirror, and a shower. I didn't even have enough space for a proper cabinet. There is only a shelf above the toilet for some spare paper rolls. The rest of the bathroom items are stored in a dresser out in the corridor.

I leave the door open and move further down the corridor, turning to the left to open the door to the living room rather slowly. This door has a bad habit of squeaking that persists no matter how often I oil the hinges. I stopped caring, but right now I hate this door. I slip my hand in to turn on the light and only then do I open the door fully.

There's no one here either. Just my very old but comfy sofa, the coffee table, and an old music box in the back of this small room, and a small dining table and a couple of chairs right next to the door, with too many bookshelves covering the walls wherever there isn't a window. Oh, and my cactus, sitting right on top of the dining table.