❝One doesn't need psychometric ability to understand.❞
A house seeker's love for interior design brings out the stories of people who lived out their lives in the homes that were made for them and possibly, generations of others soon after.
Copyrigh...
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"It was a tape recording," the real-estate agent says, apologetically. I mumble inaudibly and lower my head into the pool of bubbles. I have my phone on speaker while I lounge in my bathtub. It has been a long but productive week of wrapping up furniture and putting my belongings into moving boxes. Soon I will be able to depart from my old apartment.
There is a short pause on the opposite line before the real-estate agent bombards me with personal questions. "How's your family?"
I don't mind answering since we are close. "They're fine. Mom calls me often since she's not used to having no more kids in the house."
"How about work?"
"I'm expecting a whole batch of elementary kids at the art gallery on Monday so I gotta brace myself."
"How are your projects going?"
"I have to admit that writing novels are harder than expected. Might shorten it to a novella if I'm truly uncertain of my capabilities."
"You still go to any social gatherings?"
"I've substituted a lot of them with therapy groups instead."
"Relationships?"
"Well . . . I'm sure you can guess my answer."
I picture the real-estate agent smiling with a knowing expression on her face. I have a long way to go before my dreams can be easily plucked from the sky so, naturally, I am not ready to go into another path of life.
"By the ways, I tried contacting Steven and Marcella Scythe about the tape recording but haven't gotten an answer yet. I feel bad about the whole situation startling you though. I know you won't consider that house anymore so how about—"
"I'll take it."
"What? Are you serious?"
"Yes. I'll buy Edwine Scythe's apartment."
I end the call after another minute, wrapping myself in a bathrobe to depart from my moment of relaxation. I walk into my living room, shortly after. The sun sets as slowly as my hair is drying and I peer out into the city. Once my eyes find the Scythe's apartment building, a smile uplifts my face. It is finally time to make a story of my own.
