A shy reference librarian, and a college student who was disowned when she refused to submit to conversion therapy, meet in a bookstore. He's been waiting his whole life for her. Meanwhile, she's starting her whole life over. What ensues between the...
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He drove me home shortly before going to work, dropping me off at my door. I'm used to it now. It took me a little while; I don't like other people to see my apartment, which is a converted attic above a duplex home, and now that it's almost summer, I really don't want visitors, because I have no air conditioner, and I can't imagine anyone wanting to stay for even a few minutes in the heat. It's too stifling. I do have a floor fan and a window fan, but they can only do so much.
For one hundred eighty-five per month, you get what you pay for.
If either of my downstairs neighbors moves out, I'm going to take over before the newly vacant apartment even has a chance to be advertised in the classifieds. I don't know what I'll do with that much space, given that both apartments below me are two-bedroom apartments; and I'll have to pay more in rent, of course. Having an apartment with more windows would be nice, though, as would having a kitchen that's equipped with more than just a hot plate, a microwave oven, a toaster oven, and a cube-sized refrigerator. I suppose I'll just have to bite the bullet and look for a roommate.
Another pleasant thing about moving downstairs would be the knowledge that my new dwelling would be legal to inhabit. The reason this attic I'm renting now is so cheap is that it isn't zoned for residence. That's also why the lease is month-by-month, whereas the two regular apartments downstairs have year-long leases.
As I climb the dogleg back stairs from the ground floor to the attic, the heat presses against me, clinging to me until I stagger and have to stop and pant for breath. I'll get used to it in a few minutes. It could be worse. It probably will be worse in a week or two.
I have a few hours to kill until I have to catch the bus. Finally, they transferred me to an evening shift - and the days are long enough that I won't have to walk home in the dark when I get off at my bus stop on the way back. Later in the year, getting home from work is going to be scarier, because I'll have to walk on several blocks of dark side streets, but I'll deal with that when the time comes. It could be worse. The neighborhood I'm in is at least half populated by college students who wanted something within walking distance of the university but couldn't afford student housing. Or at least, that's the case about half a mile or so north. Students don't seem to want to live here on my section of the street. I'm not sure why. It's run-down, and it's noisy on the weekends, but it's not awful. A few blocks away is the street that runs by the county jail. That neighborhood's rougher than this one. No students would ever want to live there, even though it's a little closer to the university than the community here.
On my way to lying down on the mattress I use as my bed, I grab a box of store-brand cornflakes. I'll eat them dry. I have no milk right now, and I won't be able to shop for food until next payday. I make a note to get the toasted oat cereal next time in case I go without milk again. The box of cornflakes is larger, but toasted oats are more filling and easier to eat dry.
