Novel Apartment 소설 & 이야기

High enough to see the city lights. The key was waiting at the security desk. She rode the elevator up. The hallway was quiet a potted plant outside someone's door, a welcome mat reading G'day in cheerful yellow letters. Apartment 7B. She unlocked the door. The apartment was small but bright. Floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room. A compact kitchen with white cabinets. One bedroom. One bathroom. It smelled faintly of dust, and the previous tenant had left scuff marks on the walls. Clara didn't care. It was hers. Hers alone. No cold husband. No cruel first love. No maids who looked through her like she was already a ghost.

"And now to business. Shall we take a look at this apartment of yours?" The apartment has one bedroom, with a nice open-plan lounge and kitchen area, a tidy little bathroom, and a lovely view over the park. The area is good, and the apartment is brand new. Everything sparkles, unlike my old, dismal flat with its peeling paint and smell of dampness. I am so pleased to think that I will soon be living here. Richard looks around quickly, seeming unimpressed. "It's very small," he comments. "Yes, it is, but it's big enough for just me. And the area is so much nicer than my old place."

It is an apartment. My new home is a spacious, ornate and impressively expensive apartment. The walls are painted with soothing colors, windows are floor-length, flicker sunlight all day. It has a separate swimming pool area, decorated with greenery and fully grown trees. And then comes the terrace which is of lounge size and fully furnished. It shows the sea of high-rise buildings and the skyline of the city at night. I wonder whose choice is this or who's idea was that to get us this beautiful apartment. I at least got something good in the swamp of misfortunes. Though I'm isolated with shame and guilt.

I said as I can see Wayne's mouth was glued together after he swallowed his words to respond to the lady on the screen. "Understood, the nearest apartment you are searching for is the Dark Oak Apartment is further away from the Hessian Corps but near the WPD a measurement of twenty yards away while the Lavender Apartment is approximately two blocks away and if you want to see more apartments, please let me know," the lady said while she nods slowly. "Alright, The nearest among the apartment you see" I added up. "Greenflich apartment it is which is behind the WPD, please rest your shoulders at the back of your seats and watch the terrace of our greatest cityscape"

I searched the sky for a single cloud, hoping to see Auntie Tilda again, but all I found was endless black. “Do you like the apartment?” “Tonight will be my first night there,” I said shortly. “I’m sure it’s nice.” Why wouldn’t it be? It was in the most expensive building in Boston, with luxury services, a chef’s kitchen, high end appliances, heated floors, and fancy imported furniture. And I didn’t care less. Not even a little. About any of it. If anything, I was sad I couldn’t stay at Annabelle’s place, where she would crawl into bed with me every morning for warmth. Where I had conversation, laughter, and weekends spent cooking together in the tiny kitchen with a glass of wine.

Or dead. In grim silence, the trio made their way to the southwestern edge of town, to an upscale apartment building. It looked new, gleaming. They drove past a sleek new swimming pool that looked more like a tropical oasis than a man-made water hole. Multiple spas, jogging trail, Wi-Fi included. Definitely more upscale than Tyler could afford on a bouncer’s salary. Luc’s heart sank, and given Jack’s and Hunter’s grim faces, they had done the math as well. But they continued on until they reached apartment 314 and knocked.

I scrolled further. Found one on the fourth page. Third floor. One bedroom. A small kitchen that had a window above the sink. Good light from the photographs. The kind of apartment that did not announce itself but had something in it. Something that looked like a place where a person could actually live rather than perform living. I stared at it for a long time. My thumb hovered over the contact button. I did not press it. I closed the app. Then I opened it again and looked at the listing one more time and this time I pressed print and the small printer on the desk in the corner of the room hummed to life and produced a single page.

Isla’s POV By late afternoon, I had convinced myself that scrolling through glossy listings was not enough. If I was serious about reclaiming my independence, I had to see the places with my own eyes. The first apartment was tucked above a bakery. The smell of fresh bread greeted me as soon as I stepped into the stairwell. It was cozy, yes, but cramped. The kitchen was barely wider than my outstretched arms, and I could already picture Sophie knocking into the corners, tripping over the peeling linoleum.

I spent only $100,000 to acquire this nearly 2,000-square-foot apartment! I refused to wait for death with them in the frozen apocalypse, much less let them kill me again. I had already died once. The fact that someone had died here did not frighten me at all. After all, the living could be far more terrifying than the dead. The penthouse was on the eighth floor. The location was ideal. It would not be submerged by the snowdrifts from the endless winter storms, and it offered easier access for foraging during utility blackouts.

"I just... I miss my room. My things. I want to be somewhere that feels like home." The three men exchanged glances, some silent communication passing between them. Finally, Lorenzo nodded. "Give us the address." --- The apartment was in Queens, a fourth-floor walkup in a building that had seen better days. As we climbed the stairs—no elevator, of course—I became increasingly self-conscious about what they were seeing. The hallway carpet was worn and stained. The walls needed a fresh coat of paint. You could hear arguments through doors, a baby crying somewhere above us, the smell of someone's cooking permeating everything.