Moving Fast

The phone rings. It's Anthony. "We had to move today. I found a pretty nice apartment to do us until the end of the week."

"What?! Where?"

He gave me the address, and after work, I found my way there. It wasn't a bad apartment, but not nearly as nice as the one we will be moving into. I was about to ask Anthony the details of the move when the land lady showed up.

She was in her mid-thirties, with hair dyed so frequently it was roughly the color and texture of straw, and the kicker, in a mullet. Anthony shook her hand and thanked her for letting us move in so quickly.

"But we've found another apartment. We'll be moving in at the end of the week. We'll pay you well for this week, of course," Anthony told her. She looked so crestfallen I felt a little guilty.

"But the lady upstairs just died. I was going to offer you her apartment."

posted by Lisa at 8:46 AM |