Standing with her hands on her hips, Lavinia looked around the tiny bedroom and sighed.
Another apartment. Different roommates. A new job. Everything changing, all over again, but everything staying the same.
She pulled a box to the middle of the floor and opened the top, then began to pull out picture frames, books, a mirror--things that would make the place feel like home. Make it feel the same as any other place she'd ever lived.
From another box she pulled out her blue sheets and stretched them over the twin bed in the corner. On the night stand, she put her eiffel tower lamp and alarm clock. It really was a tiny room, and the bed and nightstand practically filled it.
Moving to the window, she looked out at the view of the back parking lot, a fence, and another apartment building behind. She checked the window to see if it had a lock, and realized that a piece of pvc pipe, cut to fit, was in place to keep it from being slid open. It would be safe enough, she guessed, on the second floor.
Turning again to her room, she knew what this room really needed: something green.
Just then, the doorbell rang. Her roommate, whom she hadn't met yet, wasn't home. She hesitated. It wouldn't be for her. She didn't know a single person in this city. Maybe she should just ignore it and finish unpacking.
It buzzed again, and she moved into the dingy hallway with it's generic white paint and brown door. There was no peep hole, so there was no way to see who was on the other side. She gently pulled back the dead bolt, but leaving the chain lock in place and opened the door a crack.
On the other side, brown eyes smiled down at her.