Page 73 of Seeley


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“Fifth floor,” she told me. “Apartment C,” she added as we got into the elevator that had more graffiti on it than the one that we grew up with did.

I’d spent more time than I cared to admit wondering what Ama’s apartment would look like. When she was a kid, she lived at her gran’s place. Which was full of comfortable, floral, old-lady type shit. Even Ama’s comforter was floral. There just wasn’t money to change things like that.

Even when Ama made money for herself, almost all of it went to bills and her gran’s healthcare.

So I was curious, even with a small amount of “grown-up money” she did with her place.

“Here,” she said, pulling one strap of her purse off her shoulder, so I could dig inside. She’d lucked out that the cops found her keys on the ground near the raided medical supply area, discarded since they’d served their purpose.

After fingerprinting them, they gave them back since she clearly needed to have them to get into her place.

“It’s probably a mess. I left in the middle of cleaning and organizing.”

Ama was an anxious cleaner. When the world felt out of control, you could always find her scrubbing something.

And if you happened into her apartment to find her elbows deep in soap and water, you could bet she had a hard day.

She’d left in the middle of cleaning to go get her phone… because of our interaction earlier that day.

Maybe that was cocky of me to assume, but I damn well knew I was impacted by it. And I hadn’t even been the one who got screwed over all those years ago.

“I’ve seen Levee’s room,” I informed her. “There are science experiments going on in there.”

With that, I pushed open the door.

And there was Ama’s space.

I’d thought about it way more than I should have over the years, and while it was somehow exactly what I imagined, it was also nothing like it somehow at the same time.

The main thing I pictured when I thought of Ama’s apartment was books. She’d always prized them so much. And with a little money of her own, I imagined she would spend it on books.

And she did.

Even though she likely didn’t have as much reading time as she did when she was younger.

One whole wall of her apartment was lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. And while they were full of books, they were styled as well with little knick-knacks and statues. Some of the things look like they’d been made by kids, making me think it was probably from patients at the clinic.

There wasn’t a TV in sight.

But, knowing Ama, that was because she had it in the bedroom where she could really sprawl out and get comfortable.

There was a deep wine-colored velvet couch running along the windows that looked out at the street. A mismatch of blankets were piled there.

The kitchen was a tiny space, still exactly as it had come with its cheap fake wood cabinets and yellow-ish laminate countertops. But she had a few plants scattered around, and floral dishtowels that reminded me of her grandma.

If I had to bet, most of the cabinets and the fridge would be somewhat empty. She wasn’t home enough to have them stocked up. But she was also not someone who would spend on eating out if she could help it.

I would put my money on her fridge having several salads that she’d pre-made and put in separate containers, maybe some soup, and various other easy-to-make, but healthy meals.

Then her nightstand probably had all her emotional support chocolates.

Aside from the books and knick-knacks, there wasn’t much around. No rug. No art. Not even any paint on the walls.

It didn’t exactly have that lived-in feel that her gran’s place always did, that even her bedroom had.

Maybe because she really didn’t live there.

She lived at work.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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