The apartment was typical college fare.
An abandoned door lay flat on cinder blocks to form a desk; more cinderblocks formed shelves. The nook that apartment complexes refer to as 'dining rooms' had collapsible beach chairs surrounding a large cable spool. There was no TV, but there were several worn bean bags and papa-san chairs in the living room. Through a narrow door, a mattress without a frame lay on a floor, surrounded by an impressive number of empty Gatorade and water bottles.
Long fingers pinched at the bridge of a nose.
Instinct? Hard to learn. Hard to overcome. The hamster wheel's turned sideways. It's like learning to cross your arms the other way. Twiddle your thumbs in reverse. The trick is? It feeling natural.
Take a break, yo.
"Want a beer?"
The refrigerator is a small, sturdy white affair. There's a half-eaten Subway and some yogurt.
"You ever had Hoegaarden? I've been on a Hoegaarden kick. Little spendy, but, you know. Live a little."