He pulled into the driveway in a red Holden and got out holding a half-eaten kebab. He had a dishevelled look on his face and forced a smile as he shook my hand. He showed me through the apartment complex, which he informed me used to be a hospital. The floors were peeling linoleum, the walls lime green and filthy. He showed me a kitchen with an ancient gas stove and stainless steel benches. We walked down the dimly lit, lifeless corridor past an abandoned common room: four decrepit couches and an empty bookshelf. We passed a broom-closet sized shower cubicle and finally reached the room. It was small and smelled like stale fish. I took a quick look around and opted to leave as quickly as possible.
As we left the building he told me about the process of applying for the room if I was interested. We stood outside beside his red Holden and he lied to me about how there were other people interested. He told me I should fill out an application as soon as possible. I lied to him as well when I told him I was thankful that he showed me through the apartment block. I extended my hand to shake his and commence my departure. He extended his own hand and dropped his car keys on the pavement and sighed before picking them up and shaking my hand.
I left the property at a considerable pace hoping that I had in fact slipped into a nightmare from which I would soon awake.
This text post won’t even get one reblog