“Oh, and I forgot to mention. A new guy just moved in, and since I haven’t another room, you’ll have to share. But, lucky for you, he’s out. Work, I s’pose, but he’ll be back,” he explained.
“Oh, okay,” I said, a bit tired and dazed, I didn’t feel like I could care so much. At least I’ve got somewhere to go and somewhere to sleep.
The rent of this apartment was about $2,000 per month, which was, indeed, a lot to pay. But, this was New York city. My parents and grandmother were more wealthy than average, so I got everything, and it was plenty more than enough to pay for the apartment, which was a fantastic start to a new life.
I hesitantly walked up the stairs, the owner pointed out where my room was (“Up the stairs, to the right,” he grumbled. I wonder if I did anything wrong to bother him, him sounding completely irritated). I took one step into the room and almost threw up at the sight (and smell) of it. The room or the dumpster perhaps, had dull and smelly looking clothes scattered around the room. It seemed as if some evil monster had torn up the room and breathed its disgusting breath into it. I wouldn't be surprised to find the monster hiding under the bed.
There was another room with a bed in it, the door halfway open, and this room, fortunately was clean, though dusty. I entered the room and closed the door, sat on the bed and dropped off my backpack on the wooden boards. The walls were blank despite some small holes and scratches, the floorboards creaky and close to rotting away. I didn’t have any posters to fill the blank spaces on the walls, although I did have a calendar. The ceiling fan wore a thick jacket of dust, just waiting to be used. Like anyone would use a fan in the winter. I really need to do some cleaning up here…