It was far from a dream home. The smell of smoke from my nearby neighbors instantly filled your nose as you climbed the dirty concrete stairs. The sound of music turned up way too loud echoed from parties being thrown. Up the stairs and to the left was my apartment. 16A. When you walked inside, the smell of cologne and whiskey took over the smoke.
The paint all throughout the apartment was a dull beige. It peeled by the windowsills from where rain had gotten through the poorly secured windows. Nothing I cared about enough to fix. Nothing was hung on the walls to decorate or take away from the boring personality of the paint job.
The living room consisted of a television stand with a television resting on it, and a worn and beaten Bladen sofa. The television only worked half of the time due to my inability to remember to pay the cable bill. The carpet was covered in mysterious stains, making it different shades of blue, brown, and red. My cooking skills were evident, as old pizza boxes and food bags rested everywhere.
The kitchen tiles were cracked and of a dirty white color. There was barely any food in the fridge or any of the cabinets, hence why I order it. The counters were crowded with old food boxes and bags, beer cans and bottles, and dirty cereal bowls and spoons.
The apartment was always cold, no matter how high you turned up the heat or how hot it was outside. The front door only shut properly if you slammed it, probably due to a bad hinge or something. The apartment was very empty, I didn’t have much of anything.
In the bathroom was a sink, shower, and toilet. The mirror sat above the sink, and in the space between the two was a fist size hole. I don’t remember how it got there but I probably did it one night when I was drunk and mad. The shower worked, but it only ran cold water, and the knobs on the bathroom sink were broken, leaving me and my very few guests to wash their hands or brush their teeth in the kitchen. The mirror was dirty and streaky because of my attempt to clean it.
My bedroom was a disaster. My bed was permanently unmade, even the nights I slept on the couch. Clothes, clean and dirty, and shoes covered the bedroom floor, making it difficult to see much of anything. The blinds that covered the bedroom window were broken, so they were always shut. My nightstand was covered with more beer cans and bottles, leaving no room for an alarm clock, lamp, or even my phone. I didn’t have a dresser, and my closet wasn’t any better than the floor of my bedroom.
© 2020 ashlyn bell