𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐋𝐈𝐄'𝐒 𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐋. It was smaller than what he was used to, at least, it wasn't necessarily small. Of course, it was one bedroom, on bath, one kitchen, and a closet, but it was a spacious one bedroom, one bath, one kitchen, and a closet, so he couldn't complain, he knew people with much less, but it took some getting used to. Especially since there were boxes thrown about and piled from floor to ceiling.

He groaned as he fell onto his just built bed, the mattress firm and not yet sagging. This entire apartment was a downgrade, a purposeful downgrade but a downgrade nonetheless, yet while that was still true, his mother had ingrained in him the importance of investing in a good mattress, so he still did, even if it was a queen instead of a king.

He reached for his phone to check his notifications, only to remember that there was no one who would try to contact him. Of course, he checked anyways, because he was a creature of habit, and was surprised that he was still disappointed at the sight of nothing but his now generic lockscreen.

"This is really sad," he said to himself, groaning as he pushed himself up from his bed, making his way to his fridge.

"What do we have to eat today, Leslie?" he asked, because he had always had a strange habit of talking to himself when he was home alone, and it was an old habit he hadn't indulged in several years, but was coming back full force, "I really hope that it's something, but it's probably nothing."

He opened his fridge, sighing as he caught sight of it empty, because he didn't fill it with anything, so he shouldn't have expected it to be filled, yet there he was.

"Well, there's no food—I want to kill myself," he said, standing up and pushing himself away, and he paused, realizing what he just said, tacking on a quick, "No, I don't," directed towards the room.

He hadn't said that in an even longer time, not since high school, and that had been a good time ago. It was something he used to say whenever he had nothing to say, along with asking people what time it was, but he always retracted his statement for fear of ghosts or spirits within the room taking him seriously and killing him in order to end whatever suffering he was experiencing.

He was suffering, but he didn't want to die. He just wanted a do-over.

"What time is it?" he hissed to himself, trying to block out his thoughts with verbal words, making his way back to his bed and picking up his TV remote and phone.

He had been there long enough to set up the WiFi and his TV, so he was able to look up a good deli or pizza place nearby while skimming through the channels for something good. Netflix and Hulu didn't have anything appealing to him at the moment, though he did appreciate their existences in his sad life.

"What to do..." he sang to himself, because he always hated the silence, and he was almost certain there was at least some part of a ghost in this new apartment, though it was the only apartment that didn't feel like it had an active presence when he was looking around.

Then he remembered that he hadn't thought about ghosts in a very long time.

"I'm gonna go insane," he groaned, sighing as he rubbed his eyes, landing on a Lifetime movie currently on a commercial break, advertising the movie following it.

It was a movie about a father and her daughter, the daughter most likely being possessed by the spirit of another psychopathic child, and the father had to deal with her, as well as the babysitter he hired who was more than what she let on, all set within the middle of nowhere that he guessed was somewhere in either Oregon, Massachusetts, or Maine.

"This is gonna be terrible," he said, wholly set on watching it while eating an entire box of pizza by himself, opening the directions and scanning over them.

Nodding to himself, he turned off the TV and grabbed his keys and wallet, weaving through the maze of unopened boxes towards his door, figuring that he had enough time to get himself some pizza and get back home in time for the Lifetime movie.

Along the way, he passed by one of his neighbors, giving her a pursed lipped smile as he went. She was sweet and young, fresh out of high school, maybe college, he wasn't sure, and had offered to help him move in and unpack.

"Hey," he said, trying to muster up a kind smile and friendly voice, which was something he wasn't usually accustomed to.

"Hi," she chirped, because of course she did, she was young and sweet and didn't realize who she was talking to, "How has the move been, Mr...?"

"Uh, Davis. Just call me Leslie," he said, hating how robotic his tone sounded, trying to smile, "And the move's been just fine, thank you, how are you...?"

"I'm Cecelia, and I'm good, just schoolwork, you know. Grad school," she said, nodding, and it was clear she wanted to go, and he wanted nothing more than to go as well, so he just nodded and started to walk away.

"Well, good luck," he said, giving her a small wave, and she smiled and waved back, because she was sweet and he should start to take notes on how to be remotely kind.

He sighed as he turned around and started to make his way down the stairs, mumbling to himself as he went. Pizza and a movie, that was all he needed to worry about. At least for the time being.

He stepped out of his apartment complex and out into the fairly chilly winter afternoon, high tailing it over to the hole-in-the-wall he had seen online whose ratings were high, despite being minimal, and he was willing to just take what he could get.

"Not like there's any other option," he grouched as he stepped into line, the room blue and thin, but long, with fluorescent lights and people shouting, and two plastic tables pressed up against the wall, the entire room too close for comfort.

"Just a box and a Coke," he said, because they offered boxes and sodas, and the guy at the register looked relieved, ringing him up and grabbing a box from the counter behind him and a soda from the fridge next to it, the two exchanging easily, and that was what Leslie liked.

He liked not having to speak. He liked how pleasantries weren't necessary and all he needed to do was not make a fuss. It was better than how he used to act. Funny, all he needed to be was the bare minimum and that was better.

But he needed to be better than better. Even just decent.

"Have a good night," he said, taking the change and dropping it into the tip jar, all seven dollars and fifteen cents of it.

Seven dollars and fifteen cents more than he would have ever done before. Seven dollars and fifteen cents of everything he should have done back then.

He made his way back to his apartment, pizza box in hand, and tried not to make any fuss as he unlocked the door to the complex, holding it open for the family making their way down the stairs, something he never would have done.

Seven dollars, fifteen cents, and an open door. That was seven dollars, fifteen cents, and an open door more than could have ever been expected of him not too long ago, yet so long ago all the same.

He made his way up the stairs, holding onto the pizza, and then there was Cecelia who had gone to go get her mail, and she was smiling at him, and he was smiling back, and he never smiled back to anyone, not before, not now.

Yet then he smiled and paused in front of her, motioning towards the pizza. "My apartment isn't unpacked in the slightest, but there's a scary Lifetime movie playing in about four minutes, do you want to help me finish this?"

She gave him a polite smile and declined. Because of course she declined, they had only spoken when he first moved in, and he hadn't smiled at all to her then, but there he was now, smiling and offering her pizza and some company, like a creepy older man would.

Because seven dollars, fifteen cents, an open door, and an invitation weren't enough to make up for all that had happened.

So he went into his apartment alone, locking it behind him and weaving through the maze of boxes, sitting on the foot of his just made bed and turning on his TV, just in time for the Lifetime movie to start.

He sighed as he opened the soda and the box of pizza, letting his shoulders relax as he settled in, the movie credits rolling.

He picked up a piece and held it up, as if in toast to the part ghost in his new apartment, taking a bite with a sigh.

"Could be worse."

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄

( 09.11.18 )

Okay, I'm really happy with how this turned out. At first, I was worried, because I needed to show that he had no connections, but then I had him talking to himself and I have this same habit and the strange little beliefs, and the important thing is that it's been a really, really long time since he's done this, so it's really important that we remember this.

I'm sorry if it wasn't all that good, but I'm proud of it, and we're gonna see May real soon.

Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed!