She played with her new set of keys inside her pocket before taking them out and twirling them with her finger. “Welcome home.” She whispered under her breath as she inserted the key inside the hole and unlocked the door. She turned the knob and let herself in. Like yesterday, the sight before her completely took her breath away.

“What a fucking shithole.” She mumbled and laughed in spite of herself. This one bedroom apartment had been abandoned for three months, its previous occupant in prison after getting caught in a drug raid. Though some of the druggie’s things had been cleared, a few pieces of his furniture and appliances had remained.. a bed, a couch, a gas stove, a worn-down oven, a small dining set and an uneven coffee table. Bette had the icky mattress thrown out and was determined to sleep in one of those inflatable beds until she bought a new one. The rent was dirt cheap and with good reason, Bette mused. The walls had food stains all over, the carpet resembled a culture media for hundreds of bacterial species, the toilet made scary gurgling sounds, the pipes groaned, the lights flickered on and off, the windows were cracked and the entire place smelled of stale weed and Cheetos. This place was a wreck.. but in some strange way, Bette loved it. All because it was her own and it was so close to Tina, she smiled inwardly. She dropped her bag on the living room couch and grimaced when it shrunk a little deeper into the cushion than necessary, the old thing barely hid the fact that its springs were loopy. Oh well, she sighed. She would have to do some major furniture shopping in the next few days. That and a little art spree too.. she shook her head disapprovingly at the bare apartment walls.

Time to get dirty, she sighed as she entered the small kitchen. Small was an understatement, she scoffed, it only took two steps to reach the fridge.. one step to the oven.. a half-step to the stove.. and a sideways turn to the sink. It was so unlike her private “mini” kitchen wherein she could do cartwheels to travel from one appliance to another. Oh well, at least this place is stocked, she exhaled loudly. James had been persistent about fixing her apartment up for her. She declined of course, but when he cried the other day, she had relented a little to his wishes by giving him the go-signal to mess with the kitchen. The dependable guy got her groceries, cooking tools, tablewares and a multitude of bottled drinks. Gotta love him, she smiled broadly as she took her new ‘Hail to the Chef!’ apron from the hook, put it on and tied it to her body.