A Gothic Symphony: Chapter Four – Possibilities

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes, absolutely. We’ve been together for two years now; it’s about time.”

The apartment was small, she thought. Ridiculously small, in fact, and their boxes were filling it to the point where it was a squeeze just to get in the front door. Was this really the best they could do?

From the bedroom she heard him cursing, and sighed. Yes, she loved him, and yes, he was an angry pain in the ass. “What is it now?” she called.

“I can’t find it,” he called back. “I remember putting it in one of my bedroom boxes, and it isn’t here!”

“What are you even looking for?”

“My toothbrush!”

This was starting to give her a headache. “Your toothbrush? We can buy a new one.”

“No! It’s a waste of money.”

This wasn’t a conversation she was going to continue, and she turned back to her own boxes. They were going to have to get rid of a whole lot of stuff, and it was probably going to be mostly her stuff. She was a little worried when he realized how many boxes were filled with her clothes. And shoes.

They hadn’t really talked about possessions when the conversation came up to move in together; it had mostly revolved around money (mostly brought up by him), and the idea that if they were both paying rent on one apartment, they’d have a lot more money left over to enjoy life. It had certainly seemed tempting at the time.

In which case, she wasn’t quite sure why their apartment was so small. It was in a nicer part of town, yes, but not that nice. There were still beggars on the corner — just not prostitutes.

She took the last pile of plates out of the box and put them on top of another pile of plates which were balanced on a tea tray that hung half off the edge of the kitchen counter, then tossed the box onto the floor. Shelby screeched.

“Sorry!” she exclaimed. “Didn’t see you there. Can’t you keep out of the way for now?”

Shelby mewed disapproval and scowled at her, and slunk back to the windowsill. It had taken a lot of convincing to get him to accept her cat. Her pussy, as he vulgarly called him sometimes. She hated him when he did that. He wasn’t allergic — he just didn’t much like cats. It didn’t really matter though, because Shelby didn’t much like him.

She reflected that they weren’t even supposed to have him here. The landlady had a bizarre rule forbidding male pets. Technically, Shelby wasn’t really a boy anymore, but she didn’t think the landlord would debate the difference. They just called him Shelly when she was around.

She stripped and flatted the box, and started on a new one. Damn, there really wasn’t much room.

Suddenly, there was a cry from the bedroom, and he burst out, holding some little box in his hands. […]

Read the full chapter here.

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