My apartment in the city is hilarious.
To call it an apartment is a gross overstatement.
Outside: tall, grey, square. Building entrance: Glass, dirty, vestibule, smells like wet coat. Stairs: back stairs, up seven flights, heartrate up, smells like hat pee. Hallway: so dirty, smells like ramen. Front door: wooden, uncomfortably narrow, basically pressboard with a knob. Opens to: all white everything, studio, kitchen straight ahead, dresser on right side wall, bed on left side wall, vinyl pocket door to left of bed. Vinyl pocket door opens to: toilet, shower corner, sink corner, no mirror.
The items I keep in this apartment are as follows: enough food for two meals and two cups of coffee per day (five days), one pair sneakers, one pair loafers, two suits, three shirts, two ties, five boxer briefs, six pairs black socks, five pairs white socks, two basketball shorts, two t-shirts, one bar of soap, one towel, toothbrush, toothpaste, one bottle silver tequila, five limes, five Parliament Lights.
There is a twin size bed, one fitted sheet, one flat sheet, one blanket, one lamp on a table beside the bed. On the dresser is watch, wallet, cell phone.
The apartment has no smell.