(no subject)
Show us where you live.
Tapping his fingers nervously against his crossed arm, Ray resists the urge to check his watch again as he waits for the superintendent to arrive and let him into the apartment so he can look around. Right now he just wants to get away from the crappy hotel room he's been staying it and it's starting to get real obvious that Stella isn't going to let him come back home. He's seen a couple of places already, but most of them are either too far from work or too far from Stella and while he doesn't want to admit it, being close to his ex-wife is still a big factor in his decision where to live.
He's shifting from one foot to the other when she finally shows up and she gives him a smile before unlocking the door. Even before she says anything, Ray's in love with the place. He's in love with it and he's never loved a place before. Sure, his place with Stella was nice, but it never felt like his.
This is his.
"Wow," he murmurs as he steps inside, moving past the small closet and toward the kitchen. He loves that it's open into the living room, he loves that the whole place is just big and bright and spacious. Right now he doesn't have a lot of stuff, but Ray's always been sort of a packrat and he's sure it won't take long before he's got his own collection of things that need a place to live.
Moving past the windows -- the big, perfect windows that open out onto the fire escape where he can see flower boxes left behind by the last tenant -- he heads into the bedroom, the door wide open.
The bedroom is huge and the windows let in more sunlight than he's ever seen in a bedroom before. It's big and bright and the sunlight is filtering through the blinds, dust caught in the bright light. He can picture his new bed right there between the lights and he can picture his chili pepper lights strung up near the kitchen.
"The red chair is gonna go there," he tells the landlady, turning to point at a place in the living room. He can already see it. His couch, his chair, his little TV and his coffee table. There's only one thing he has to put on the wall, a giant shamrock that Stella's always hated, but he's going to put it up on the wall in his bedroom. Right over his bed like he's always wanted.
"This is it," he says to himself. This is his new home and for the first time since he's been served with divorce papers, he doesn't feel so terrible anymore.
Tapping his fingers nervously against his crossed arm, Ray resists the urge to check his watch again as he waits for the superintendent to arrive and let him into the apartment so he can look around. Right now he just wants to get away from the crappy hotel room he's been staying it and it's starting to get real obvious that Stella isn't going to let him come back home. He's seen a couple of places already, but most of them are either too far from work or too far from Stella and while he doesn't want to admit it, being close to his ex-wife is still a big factor in his decision where to live.
He's shifting from one foot to the other when she finally shows up and she gives him a smile before unlocking the door. Even before she says anything, Ray's in love with the place. He's in love with it and he's never loved a place before. Sure, his place with Stella was nice, but it never felt like his.
This is his.
"Wow," he murmurs as he steps inside, moving past the small closet and toward the kitchen. He loves that it's open into the living room, he loves that the whole place is just big and bright and spacious. Right now he doesn't have a lot of stuff, but Ray's always been sort of a packrat and he's sure it won't take long before he's got his own collection of things that need a place to live.
Moving past the windows -- the big, perfect windows that open out onto the fire escape where he can see flower boxes left behind by the last tenant -- he heads into the bedroom, the door wide open.
The bedroom is huge and the windows let in more sunlight than he's ever seen in a bedroom before. It's big and bright and the sunlight is filtering through the blinds, dust caught in the bright light. He can picture his new bed right there between the lights and he can picture his chili pepper lights strung up near the kitchen.
"The red chair is gonna go there," he tells the landlady, turning to point at a place in the living room. He can already see it. His couch, his chair, his little TV and his coffee table. There's only one thing he has to put on the wall, a giant shamrock that Stella's always hated, but he's going to put it up on the wall in his bedroom. Right over his bed like he's always wanted.
"This is it," he says to himself. This is his new home and for the first time since he's been served with divorce papers, he doesn't feel so terrible anymore.