Page 24 of In Somnis

CHAPTER FIVE

Lennon

The apartment smells of fresh paint and bad decisions.

I didn’t sleep well last night or long, for that matter. The mattress Derek left behind still had plastic wrap on one corner that crinkled every time I moved, and even though I was exhausted, my brain wouldn’t shut up long enough to let me rest. I gave up around six o’clock and spent an hour in the shower, letting the hot water run until the bathroom was thick with steam and my skin turned pink. It didn’t fix anything, but at least I feel marginally human now.

After, I sat on the bathroom floor with my nail kit and filed down all my nails to match the one that cracked the night before—short and practical, the length I always kept when I was working in the kitchen. Then I painted them the same lemon yellow and added tiny citrus slices on my ring finger, so that at least my hands can look like they have their shit together.

Now I’m standing in the empty kitchen at eight in the morning, with paperwork spread across the kitchen counter. A three-month lease and a security deposit, that’s not super permanent. That’s just… lingering. And that’s okay. Right?

My pen hovers over the signature line.

This is fine.

This is absolutely fine.

People move across the country and sign leases all the time. People start over.

People don’t usually do it because their best friend asked them to in a dream.

But details.

“You good?”

I look up. Derek is leaning against the doorframe. He showed up early—too early, honestly—but at least he is as nice as he was on the phone yesterday.

“Yep,” I say a little too brightly. “Just double-checking that this isn’t secretly a cult contract.”

He chuckles, and I scrawl my signature across the bottom.

Lennon Maes.

There. Done. Committed.

Derek steps forward and collects the pages, glancing them over before handing me a key ring with another brass key.

“Welcome home. Trash day is Wednesday. Recycling is every other week. Any questions?”

About a million, but none he can answer.

“I’m good. Thank you.”

He nods and heads for the door, pausing at the threshold. “You need anything, help with the furniture, recommendations, whatever, just knock on my door. I’m living in the apartment above yours.”

“I will. Thanks, Derek.”

The door clicks shut behind him, and I’m alone again. I look down at the keys in my palm, then around at the space that’s apparently mine for the next three months.

It’s empty, not just without furniture but without personality, lacking any evidence that anyone has ever stood here and felt anything. The walls are white, and the floors are a color between beige and regret. There’s a window in the main room that looks out onto a fire escape, and beyond it is the parking lot. That’s it, that’s what I have. Plus the mattress.

My mother’s voice surfaces.

“You can make anything a home, Lenny. You just have to decide to.”

I haven’t decided yet. I’m giving myself until tomorrow or so.

“Okay, Tessa,” I whisper to the empty room. “I’m here. Now what?”