The Squirrel Man

We lived in a fairly nice apartment near the outskirts of the city. It wasn't quite suburban, but it wasn't in the main part of the city, either. The rent was affordable, and the apartments were nice. There was a pool we could use, and with the apartments at just under 600 square feet, it was all we really needed. After all, the house mates we had been living with found a better job opportunity, and we weren't about to pack up and move to another state with them. So we had to get what we could find, and Bellview Gardens was what we settled on.

The apartment was spacious considering its small size. There was a small kitchen, a dining area which we decided to use to expand the kitchen, a bathroom with a full tub that wasn't too crowded, a large living room, and a bedroom that was just as big as the living room! When I saw how big the closets were, we were sold.

The move was somewhat difficult as James and I had to do most of the moving ourselves. Our old housemates were, shall we say, unenthusiastic about helping anyone outside themselves, (another reason we decided not to go with them.) So James and I spent the next few weeks moving our possessions into a small car, driving to the new apartment, and hauling everything up three flights of stairs. On the final night that we got everything into the house, we celebrated with the traditional meal that we always had after moving: Pizza and beer. Amidst the boxes and oddly angled furniture, we sat on the floor together and relaxed for a while, promising to unbox later after a good night's rest.

"Not sure how well I'm going to sleep," I mentioned to James, "New places are always a little difficult for me to sleep in. All the new sounds and just..."

"...New environment," he finished, "I get it. I'm usually the same way. We'll be alright, though. No worries! Here's to the new home, and freedom from those useless housemates!"

"Cheers!" I agreed as we clinked beer bottles.

After dinner, we dug around the boxes for our blankets, towels, and toiletries and got ready for bed. James always took the side of the bed closest to the wall, and I got the outer edge. We curled up with our blankets, and snuggled up tight.

"I'm going to start unpacking the kitchen tomorrow," I mentioned. "I'd like to be able to cook something for dinner within the next five years."

"It's not that bad!" James replied. "At least our boxes are marked this time."

"True," I answered.

Silence lingered between us for a while. My eyes wandered across the ceiling to where the light of the street lamp shined through, casting stripes across the ceiling from the open blinds.

"It's really bright in here," I muttered.

"Country boy," James mumbled lovingly, already half asleep.

James was referring to the fact that I had lived in the country for most of my life, and that I still wasn't used to the light pollution of the city. It was the truth. I had trouble sleeping with too much light, and we didn't have any curtains yet. All I could do was turn the blinds down in hopes it would help.

I yawned as I dragged myself out of bed, and made my way across the room to twist the little rod that controlled the blinds. Moving it one way, then another, I managed to close the blinds in a way that blocked at least a good portion of the light out. I scanned the room to see how dark it was. It wasn't perfect, but it was at least darker. The corners of the room were nearly pitch black, and the only offending light was the hazey, oddly angled rectangle of light cast across the ceiling. Satisfied, I crawled back into bed, and curled up next to James, my back to him.

"G'night Scott," James mumbled.

Before I could reply, he was snoring.

I tried to fall asleep, but my mind wouldn't shut off. I found myself scanning the room aimlessly between shutting my eyes and popping them open again. At one point I noticed the closet door was cracked open a foot.