The Apartment Novels & Stories

The other two live on the fourth and fifth floors. The elevator door dinged softly and opened. Ezra stepped outside and he was greeted by a deserted hallway. Most of the residents in this apartment are busy executives because this apartment is quite elite and has a good reputation. Sometimes they stay with their very old parents or other relatives to look after the house while they work.

His face showed no expression, but his gaze looked a little proud. The car stopped in front of an apartment building. Adrian led me into the elevator, swiped a key card, and we went up to the seventeenth floor. The moment the door opened, I was stunned. Warm yellow lighting filled the space. A soft fabric sofa was in the center of the living room, and several potted plants lined the balcony. “You…” “I bought it for convenience to live close to the company.” He changed into slippers and entered the apartment casually. “There are two rooms. You can take the master bedroom.”

Room 3B Benita Hayes The thick smell of burnt white sugar and cheap laundry detergent hit me the very second I pushed open the heavy, water-warped wooden door of the apartment building. There was no uniform security guard sitting behind a polished marble desk down here, there was no indoor waterfall to mask the street noise, and there was definitely no central air conditioning hum to cool the air. There was only a narrow, claustrophobic stairwell covered in peeling dark green paint and a single, low-wattage yellow lightbulb hanging miserably from the ceiling by a frayed black wire.

The rain beat insistently against the window of Lara's apartment, a small, functional place on the tenth floor of an old building, with a view of the backs of other constructions. It was a transitional space, furnished with generic pieces and few traces of personality. On that Thursday night, it seemed even emptier, colder, a cocoon that didn't comfort, only confined.

Her feelings were mixed, but for now, she had made her choice, and this place would be her home, for who knows how long. The apartment was called the Blue Lavender Apartments, a mid-range building located on the outskirts of the city, far from the hustle and bustle of the city, and even further from the spotlight. From the outside, the building looked like a remnant of a life that should have been abandoned long ago. The dull, gray-green walls, patches of peeling paint on the corners of the balconies, and dark windows in the unoccupied units seemed to stare blankly out at the deserted street below.

I counted it twice, then again, like it might grow if I looked at it long enough. It didn’t. Still, it was enough. Enough to start something. A studio apartment. A room in someone’s house. A place to sleep that didn’t smell like mop water and French fries. Somewhere I could close a door and know no one was coming in unless I said so. I pulled out my phone and searched “apartments near me—cheap.” The results were… grim. But one listing caught my eye. Small. Run-down. Only a kitchenette and a bathroom. But no roommates. No eyes. No judgment.

She drove around to her side of the building and told me that there were actually quite a few other military personnel who lived in this apartment building. Not all though. It wasn’t on base, and it wasn’t one that the military set up for us, usually. But when the normal apartments weren’t available, this was the go-to. “I’m on the top floor. But there is an elevator, so it’s not bad. There are 5 floors, and I think the only apartment available, is also on the top floor, but it is the one of the last apartments on the floor. It might be yours. There is the apartment, at the very end, the open one, and then the one on the other side of. I know 2 guys live in th

"Russian girls, huh?" I thought she was going to make some American-ish comment. Instead, she got up and motioned to the three of us to follow. She let us to Apartment 2B. It was directly over the deli, which the landlady also ran. Through the dingy hallway, I was now expecting the worst, but stepping into our new place was like entering the twenty-first century.

Chapter 38 The apartment Antonio very carefully broke into was very small and quaint. From his expertise in the field from the way the apartment was decorated whoever stayed there wasn’t planning on staying very long or just recently moved there. There was no pictures on the walls, a simple couch and rug in the living room. Barely any bills on the counter and hardly any dust. Someone was moving in.

When Briggs unlocked the door, the heavy scent of stale dust, damp concrete, and old soot washed over them. The apartment was small, cramped, and visibly scarred by the apocalypse. Grimy, peeling wallpaper hung in strips from the walls, revealing the rough drywall underneath. The main living room and connected small kitchen were stripped down to the bare essentials. Greasy, broken countertops lined the kitchen wall, alongside a rusted sink that hadn't seen running water in months.