Feeling Reborn

T - Week 9

Sorry for the delay ^^;

It's just been a pretty stressful February, but hey, it's March break, so I should be able to get some things done.

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This summer couldn't get any worse, Nightmare thought as he packed the last cardboard box with books at the crack of dawn. Not only did he have to deal with his nosy colleagues — who consistently pecked him for tidbits about Monsters, he wasn't a walking, talking Wikipedia page, god damn it — but he had to make do with extra traffic on the way to his workplace.

Why? The landlord kicked him out because of a noise complaint. One measly noise complaint, maybe three in total during the two years he had been living there. It was more that could be said about his young, rowdy neighbors, his own complaints on them ignored until he finally gave up on filing any.

The animosity between him and the human was made clear the moment Nightmare stepped into the apartment, and it hadn't changed over the course of two long years; it was fine. He had prepared in advance and scouted a few new apartments not too far away from his soon-to-be and current workplace.

This last box perched precariously on a stack of standard cardboard boxes in the back of his car, surface slightly moist to the touch due to mist droplets. He wiped off a few beads of sweat with a swipe of his sweater. It wasn't a backbreaking task per say, but it was certainly a tedious workout.

Nightmare paid the apartment complex one last glance. Gray brick stood in the distance, small plumes of steam venturing from the back. Good riddance, honestly. The earlier he left this place, the better.

He pulled out of his parking spot, fingers dancing along the steering wheel to avoid lashing out at a more fragile object, and started the drive to his new living quarters.

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The new apartment complex's neighborhood looked fresher than the last. For one, it was all a uniform brick red, the townhouse style unchanging throughout each row. The roads were barely cracked, like a water-worn pebble. Some were lined with saplings; all were graced with functioning lampposts which glowed a soft amber in the misty morning.

Nightmare let out an impressed whistle at the condition of the block. Not bad, not bad at all. It deserved the removal of his plaid sweater. Removing it in one tug over his head, he threw it carelessly onto the driver's seat.

He strutted into the lobby with the essentials — his wallet, keys and phone — on his person. The receptionist, obviously tired from waking up so early, peered at him from her computer, and asked, "May I help you?"

"Yes, I believe so. I'm the one who rented room 412."

Nodding, the lady tapped a few keys, sliding her mouse across a white mouse pad. Her long nails clicked pointedly against the granite countertop, other hand swirling the computer attachment in boredom.

"Aha!" She perked up minutely. "Mr. Nightmare Joku, is that right?"

"Yes."

"Please show me a piece of ID."

Nightmare slipped his driver's license on the desk. She looked at it for a bit, and entered some more information. A sheet of paper and a black ballpoint pen were handed to him.

"Sign here." She tapped on a line at the very bottom of the waiver.

He signed it without hesitation. The woman looked at him skeptically, but remained silent.

She handed him a small key. "Here's the key to your room. Parking spots are available on the left side of the building. If you have any questions, feel free to ask. Enjoy."