pretty. lonely.

(part one)


walking toward her apartment, she tries to find her keys. her bag is engineered with compartments for easy access to a cellphone, keys, etc., but things are never where are they are supposed to be. her complex is outdoors, making it slightly voyeuristic for the passerby. if the lights are on, you can see the shadows moving inside. on nights like these, she's glad to be wearing shoes with soft soles that don't loudly announce her entrance to the eight residences that lay before her own, save the noise she makes when she drops her other bags in an unbalanced move after finally finding the keys.


there are only two keys on the keyring: a purple one which opens both doors to her apartment, and another unlabeled one which may or may not open the door to an old lover's place. there's a also a green jeweled ornament, a birthday present from a friend two years ago. she opens the doors, kicks off her boots, almost losing her balance as her right foot is unsteady on its own. there is a chair next to the door, meant for her to sit down and take her shoes off, but she never uses it for this purpose. instead, she places her bags on the chair and heads to the kitchen for a drink.


there are actually several chairs she's collected, each bought to serve out a purpose, but none actually gets much use. her apartment is small to begin with--a studio with one bathroom. the kitchen is standard, it has a stove and a small oven which may as well not exist. it's mostly a sad reminder that she cannot cook, a short-lived feeling that lasts until she turns on the light, fills up her hot water dispenser, and switches it to "on" mode. there used to be a few stool bars near the kitchen, when she entertained the idea of having people over for dinner and drinks. when the idea never became a reality, she tossed the chairs. who was she kidding? she had friends who would no doubt accept the invitation, but her idea of home was not something she wanted to share with someone else, even in the most temporary sense of the word.