Entirely fictional. Supposed to be a comedy. Trying to
get myself to think about something else other than what’s on my mind right
now.
---------------------------------------------
As she enters the apartment, she
checked all the rooms. This is her first studio! Finally! At the end of her
twenties, she is finally moving into a studio of her own! How wonderful.
The place seemed nice. The apartment was, good enough,
though not pretty, for a single. Everything seems ready and set. She could,
actually live, there - cooking and staying over. It’s not just some empty
apartment, though there might be needs to actually set up some beddings or
mattress to sleep on.
She decided to sleep in a room without
doors as she found the area to be too noisy. The safety isn’t much of a
concern, as per mortal dangers go, but the noise could be unbearable sometimes.
Sleep sometimes is valued maximum at this place.
She decided to use a straw mat for the
moment, as mattresses took some time to be delivered. There was mold on the walls.
Black farking mold! Oh my... It was just a patch of dark mold to a height tall
enough for a person sitting on the floor from the base of the walls.
“Oh my... looks like biohazard,”
she said to herself. The patch looks
like a dead body was left there for a few days and fungus that grows on
bio-specimens grew on it; and got stuck to the walls, after removing the body.
Haha! That was a fucking joke.
“Where’s that freaking bleach bottle I bought?!,”
she mumbled.
“Oh hell, might as well clean that shit up with
disposable clothes, while I have time to clean,”
she told herself. She did just that and the place
was all clean and sparkly, steady, ready and set to go...
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