Eugene stands on a black and white linoleum floor -- both feet on white, incidentally. He notices this as he looks down to inspect what was once a shiny surface. He feels like a chess piece now as he surveys the condition of this section of the playing board. Is this square a strategic move? This is the game, isn’t it?
His opponent waits patiently in that polite chess etiquette.
“Another thing that makes this house interesting is that the land it’s built on is among the oldest settled land in Castle. Some say the old shamans would perform a ritual which moved the Mount Ajour to their bidding. Others say that the mountain simply moved, and their rituals were based around its movement, but uh, regardless...this very spot right here.”
Eugene nods along with the landlord; history enthusiast. Just the two of them, but Mike Palgrean is the type of person you never quite feel alone with. The prospective tenant has quietly stood through three phone calls for the rotund salesman already.
“So what do you think of the kitchen?”
Eugene thinks that the microwave is covered in stains, because it is. At one time nuclear cube had been a shiny black, a sleek device, just coming into the world. Now it begrudgingly serves its baser role.
“It’s uh...cozy. A real collage of styles.”
Dirty microwave or not, time is running out. Sooner or later he has to pick a place. There is that one girl who seems to live in the library, during the day at least...so that spot is taken, and so is his willpower to exist in the housing grey zone at his friend Nathaniel’s place. Eugene is a fourth year student, he has been around the block --this block, even-- quite a few times. He knows what he needs: a room to weather out another year. His last year. It does not have to be fancy, just not the streets.
“Ok, let’s take a look at your room. It’s actually fortunate that you are here when you are, as this room comes with a bed, which is always a necessity right?” The landlord continues, preemptively glamorizing what is to come. The old man in his suspenders has seen it all. He knows which pieces can be sacrificed.
The pair make their way through a darkened section of the hallway and Mike makes no move to light it. Maybe there will be light at the end of this tunnel? Admittedly, Eugene has been surprised before by decent, clean housing. Intuitively he feels there will be no surprise behind the door which they find themselves standing at.
Eugene stands there on the threshold getting ready for what is to come: somewhere where he’ll be alone a lot, thinking about his next move, and then the one after that.
“Alrighty....” Mike Palgrean murmurs, searching for the correct key. The small brass instruments crash into each other lightly. Finally his eyes and fingers find their destination: a key etched F7. “Ok, so this is the room...”
The door swings open and Eugene peers into his value system to see how he had last left it: all of it functional, like the microwave.
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