1.6

I started unloading my clothes into the drawers and put some of the other things in the drawers of the bedside table. The lamp on top of the table was plain; a black plastic base with a white lampshade. My clothes mostly just consisted of plainly colored attire, a dark purple sweatshirt I wore everywhere, jeans and a few pairs of shorts.

I had a few hundred dollars, but I was positive it wasn’t going to last me for very long. I took out my beaten and worn laptop and turned it on. I started searching up jobs around the area, mostly part-time jobs until I found something better. I was planning on being a writer, a creative writer, as a matter of fact. I don’t know how that can really be useful here; I want to write books, but I don’t think I will be good enough. I am also an artist, but not a great one, though always improving. I was also thinking I could play the piano, as a musician perhaps. That, I was actually good at. I hadn’t had the time to start writing songs, or even tried, but I did some poems. Whoever read them was highly impressed. Maybe I should look for a band to join…

Suddenly, there was a noise of feet stomping up the stairs until they reached the second floor. I got up from the bed and cracked the door open a bit. It was the other guy the landlord told me about. He had brown hair that looked like he would exceed qualification for a hair stylist’s model. He had a square jawline and dark shining eyes. He wore a gray t-shirt that was strained under hard muscles and he was carrying an electric guitar. How convenient. He didn’t seem to notice me so I opened the door wider until his gazed travelled to me; he gave me a toothy smile and approached me. I opened the door fully and gave him a small smile.

The End

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