After arriving in a small city called Brunsden, which would be my home until I could afford otherwise, I cautiously opened the door into the flat. A groan escaped my lips at the sight before me. It was a two room apartment, the main room being the living room, kitchen and bathroom (a small block of wood jutting out of the wall to conceal most of the toilet.) and the other room being my bedroom. The main room was, at most, maybe six or seven metres each way, the kitchen taking up the right corner and the bathroom hidden to the side of the kitchen. The bedroom was through a small door from the kitchen, its cleanliness not any better than the main room. Dirt and grime forested here, blooming in thousands in every corner. Mould covered most of the wooden cupboards and stains patterned every piece of furniture. The kitchen consisted of two cupboards on the wall, a mini fridge, a disgusting-looking sink with taps covered in lime scale, a stove with one hob that didn't light and several other boards and cupboards. The living room had a second hand sofa with holes revealing rotting stuffing and rusted springs; a rug which might have grown its own hairs; and a box radio. The bathroom had only a toilet that had never seen soap and a toilet roll holder without a roll. The bedroom had a single bed, without sheets or blankets, which wobbled precariously when I sat on it; dark curtains that made sunshine a distant dream; a couple of shelves on the far wall; and a small, rickety bedside table.
Gazing at my new home, I sighed and took out the cleaning supplies I'd bought downstairs at the small supermarket. This was going to be a big job but cleaning was always something I'd been particular about, I fired up an awful storm if someone cleaned something out of my order. But I was living alone now and could do things as I pleased...
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