AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I open the door, ready to be wowed, only to be shocked in a bad way. “Wow, I thought New York studio apartments were tiny.” I laugh at my own joke, but the driver simply smiles and nods agreeably, not understanding what I’ve said.
He sets my bags on the bed, and I move to reach into my purse for a tip. He shakes his hands, “Non, non, mademoiselle. Uhm... enjoy Paris.”
He touches the brim of his hat and disappears down the stairs once more, leaving me alone in my Paris apartment. Despite the tiny size, I squeal and spin in place, ungracefully knocking into the iron-framed bed that’s somewhere between a twin and a full size but looks comfortable and fluffy with quilts. “Ouch,” I mutter to the empty room.
Beyond that, there’s a small desk with a stool tucked under it, a cooking area with a single electric eye, which is below a shelf that contains two place settings of white porcelain dishes and a coffee pot. The bare necessities, I suppose. Most importantly, there’s a single armoire closet to hold the outfits I brought with me and the special fabrics I felt would speak to my creativity for the competition.
What there isn’t is... a toilet.
Uhm, that’s a bare necessity too. I look around again, as though a door to a water closet will have magically appeared in the last five seconds, which it hasn’t, nor has a toilet manifested in the corner. Confused, I look at the apartment door.
I pocket my key and step out into the hallway. There are New York studio apartments that have shared facilities. I’ve been fortunate enough to not live in one... until now, I guess. I glance at the handful of other doors, seeing similar locks and deducing that they likely have skeleton keys too. At the end of the hall, there’s a door with a different type of knob.
I knock twice. “Pardon?” Hearing nothing, I slowly turn the knob, hoping I’m not about to walk into my new neighbor’s private space. Nothing like barging in uninvited to mark myself as a stupid tourist with no boundaries, common sense, or manners.
Thankfully, all I reveal is an equally small bathroom with a sink, toilet, and clawfoot tub. “Hallelujah!” I whisper before making quick work of using the restroom.
Back in my apartment-slash-room, I see something I missed. There’s a packet of information on the pillow that bears the House Corbin monogram, an offset H and C encircled in filigree swirls.
The city outside calls to me, tempting me to run and explore, but the questions of what’s going to happen tomorrow when the competition begins win out, so I take off my heels and climb onto the bed to read and prepare.
