I strongly prefer the smell of bleach to a cloud of Febreze so strong it’s almost as bad as the musty stink of rot it’s trying to hide. I prefer the smell of bleach to most things, actually. I suppose this is strange because most people would just prefer for their apartments to smell clean.
I think no matter what I do, mine will smell of Febreze and rot.
I open the windows to air it out, and I set up my plants on the sills to get some sunlight, not that there’s much to go around from this side of the building anyways. I wipe down the counters and sweep the floors, but that doesn’t get rid of the smell.
I think I’ll just have to get used to it.
My neighbor comes to visit me the next day around noon. He looks like my apartment smells, like he has no family to take care of him. I offer him to come inside and he does, but he doesn’t seem to notice the smell.
I wonder if his apartment smells the same.
We sit down with glasses of water as he tells me about the area and asks how I’m moving in. He seems to like asking me questions, but I like asking him questions, too. I ask him when he moved here and why. His answers seem vague enough to be lies but I choose to believe him.
He comes back the next day to help me unpack some boxes I’ve left in my living room. I’m happy for the help, and…
