Chapter 1

Anemic snowflakes fell at intervals, landing, but not sticking to the rugged, red brick. Brick which Matthias was certain had been there since the dawn of time. He craned his head back, one of the snowflakes settling on his cheek. The landlord had warned him, while peering over a set of coke-bottle glasses, that nothing about his new apartment would be modern.

"Is there indoor plumbing at least?" He had joked.

This earned him a dire look which closed his mouth and which he hoped meant that he would have a working toilet. Writers were supposed to live spartan lives, he supposed, but he drew the line at using an outhouse.

"It doesn't look so bad," he mumbled more to himself than the Uber driver who peered skeptically from behind her steering wheel.

"Is it... is it falling in at the top?" She asked.

"No, the vines hide the upper corner, see?" Matthias gestured and took a few steps to his right, only to let out a strangled sound when he spotted the sizable hunk missing from the building's roof as though Godzilla had stopped by and taken a bite. Matthias decided not to mention this to his driver who seemed worried enough to be dropping him off here. Like he was a poor kid she was about to abandon in the snow. He marched back to the open trunk and yanked his suitcase and three black garbage bags filled with his remaining belongings onto the curb to join his reading lamp, TV, and beanbag chair.

"Need help?" His driver offered, though he didn't think she sounded very keen.

"It's alright." Matthias returned his gaze to the building. There were bars on the first floor windows, but he suspected an enterprising thief could spend an hour with a chisel and have a sizable hole carved in the brittle brick.

Matthias took a big breath, as one about to jump into a frigid lake, and stepped up the chipped steps to the main door. He clasped the icy handle and gritted teeth, knowing his driver was still watching him, whether out of curiosity or pity, he wasn't certain. The metal handle burned his palm with cold but it turned neatly and the door swung open to reveal the lobby, such as it was. Painted the color of used mop water accented by a deeply scuffed tile floor, the wall to his left housed the tittle, metal doors of the residents' mailboxes and to the right stood a plastic garbage bin and several damp cardboard boxes. A doorway beside the boxes stood open to reveal an aged, coin-op washing machine and drier. Everything smelled like feet.

With bags draped over his shoulders and his small TV cradled in his arms, Matthias headed for the stairs, kicking his beanbag in front of him, filled with the stubborn desire to make it all in one trip. The building was so old it didn't even have a shaft for an elevator, though Matthias suspected that if there had been one you couldn't pay him enough to use it.

He faced the only modern thing in the lobby. Thick, fingerprinted, hopefully shatterproof glass doors. He used his new key with his University of Wisconsin keychain and the latch clicked willingly open. His new apartment awaited on the second floor. Not much of a trek, he encouraged himself stoutly as he clamped his keys in his mouth and hefted his lamp under one arm like a lance.

The stairs were metal with little teeth for traction and he tried not to think about how much they would hurt if he tripped and met each one on the way down. So consumed was he in placing one foot squarely on each step, while balancing a TV and several wobbling garbage bags that he nearly stepped on a little girl sitting on the stairs.

"Oh!" Matthias peered over his TV at the child. He looked up at him with eyes so dark they were nearly black. She had warm brown skin and appeared to be about four years old. She also appeared to have dressed herself as she was attired in a bright pink, princess costume, complete with cone-hat. She blinked at him for a long moment, then pulled a naked Barbie from the step in front of him.

"Thank you." Matthias said sound his keys. "I'd hate to trip carrying all this."

The girl nodded and held her Barbie to her chest, eying him with the cold appraisal of royalty.

"What floor do you live on?" He asked, uncertain why he felt driven toward conversation when his left heel was hanging precariously off a step.

The girl pointed upwards.

"Second floor?"

She shook her head.

"Third floor?"

She nodded.

"Who else lives up there?" Matthias rocked back, then corrected himself before he tumbled down the way he had come.

"Mamma and Dad." The girl said. She pulled another Barbie, equally nude, from where it had been jammed beside her against the wall. "And Mrs Penny."

"I see." He chewed his key chain and glanced upward, wondering that people with families lived in a building like this. This little girl lived one floor below that missing roof. He wondered if there was a leak. "I'm Matthias, but you can call me Matt. I'm going to be on second floor."

"Okay." The girl seemingly decided that she had gotten her fill of talking to strangers for the day. Clutching both dolls she darted up the stairs, one of her sneakers lighting up pink then blue with each step.

"Right." Matthias hefted his TV and trudged onward. "Nice to meet you."

Several minutes later he pushed his beanbag onto a small landing with a door on either side. The stairs continued on to the next floor where he could only assume the little girl had gone. After some wrangling that involved trapping his TV between himself and stained wall, he plucked his keys from his mouth and double checked the number written on his apparent key in black sharpie. "One O two." He looked to the fading numbers that appeared to have been spray painted above his door. This was it. His first solo apartment.

More fumbling and he got the key into the lock without having to set down the TV. The door swung open with a screech like a death cry. His nose was immediately assaulted by the scent of must, but at least it wasn't feet. He kicked his beanbag chair into the front room, leaving a trail in the dust on the floor.

The Craigslist ad had boasted a separate bedroom, living area and bathroom, all within his price range. He dropped his garbage bag with unceremonious 'plops and spun in place. The ad had promised a "picture window" which admittedly there was, even if it was opaque with a layer of grime. It mostly served to shine light on the dust motes hovering more thickly than the show had been outside. There was even a little bench built beside the filthy panes that looked out over the alley. At least I can keep an eye on the raccoon population, he reasoned, shutting the door with his heel.

Think of the features, not the downsides. He settled his TV on what appeared to have once been a nightstand, but was now sitting in the middle of the living space for reasons unclear. Wood floors seem to be in decent shape. No obvious black mold. Probably not haunted. He ticked off with a faint but rising hope.

He moved around his new home, examining all the "features". Peeling wallpaper that seemed to have once born a festive pineapple motif. A full-sized fridge that made a rattling sound but appeared to be working. Decent counter-top space with an island in want of a scrub.

The toilet flushed and the water ran, even if the faucet handles were rusty. Dad had dropped off his old, twin bed from home a few days before. Peering around the sparse bedroom, also bedecked in pineapples, he understood why Dad had given him a deeply searching look when they had gotten coffee between Matthias' shifts. Dad hadn't known that Matthias had snapped this place up, sight unseen. It was his own place, free of roommates and family members. His own home to do with as he pleased. I am the new prince of the land of dust!

Matthias spent the rest of his afternoon attempting to distribute his belongings around the place in a way that didn't give off a pathetically sad vibe, and to wipe every surface in sight with his bleach spray and rag. He set his laptop on the kitchen island and let his favorite play list take him away as he tried out his TV and nightstand in every corner of the living space, kicking his beanbag along after it. Finally he gave up, leaving it perched like a beacon in the center of the room.

His disgruntled stomach growled, but he didn't have much to sate it, and even fewer tools to cook the limited meal options. He ended up settling on a cup-o-noodles and thanking his lucky stars that the tiny microwave still worked.

After his "dinner" he headed for the shower, himself covered in the thick layer of greasy dust he had wiped off of everything else. He fantasized about the writing he could get done with the rest of his free evening. Maybe this place could give him some inspiration for a Gothic horror.

The shower put him in mind of the time a cow had peed on his head as a kid. He did his best, vowing to purchase a new shower head after work tomorrow.

He turned off the stream, the taps squeaking in complaint, and grabbed for his towel only to freeze, hand outstretched. Cocking his head he listened, tracking the mysterious sound he was certain he had heard the moment the water groaned to a stop. Talking? No, music? Had he left his laptop on? He could have sworn he had turned it off. He wrapped himself in a towel, slipped carefully from the tub and grabbed his phone from beside the sink, flicking it on. His dark brown hair fell into his eyes in wet strings, but he didn't pause to brush it aside. The sounds of talking and music were getting decidedly more distinct. He inched the door open and peered into his living space.

Matthias jumped so badly at what he saw that he almost launched his phone from his hand. He fumbled wildly, opening several windows on the screen with clumsy fingers, cursing inwardly. There, sitting in his apartment, on his beanbag chair, was a complete stranger. The blonde invader might have been about Matthias' age, and was immersed in a video game on Matthias' TV.

He fought against a freshly racing heartbeat and reminded himself that he was a grown man and this was his apartment. He straightened, grasped his towel to his skinny hips and cleared his throat.

The man turned around and faced Matthias with an open pleasant face, complete with wide blue eyes. The stranger wore a red T-shirt and sweatpants covered in paint splotches, one leg of which was sliced at the seam to the thigh, revealing a fat, knee high cast. A man with a broken leg had busted into his apartment and was playing video games on his TV. Matthias nearly went back into the bathroom to shut the door and try again for a more reasonable result.

"Hey, man. Sorry! I knocked, but you were in the shower." The stranger grabbed a crutch Matthias hadn't noticed beside him and began to struggle to his feet. It involved a lot of flailing.

A wave of disjointed politeness swept over Matthias as he watched the man flounder on the beanbag. "Don't get up, you're fine."

"Really? Thanks, man." The stranger flopped back down with a grunt of relief. "Sorry again. I'm Travis, but you can call me Trav. I'm your across-the-hall neighbor. I stuck my head in to say 'hi' and to see if you had a TV. Mine stopped working and I was in the middle of a level. Thank goodness for autosaves, huh?"

"Huh?"

Travis smiled sympathetically spoke more slowly. "I'm your neighbor. Nice to meet you. I made sandwiches."

Matthias blinked and looked to the kitchen island upon which sat a plate of some admittedly tasty looking sandwiches. "I-I'm Matthias. Matt."

"Hope you like Pb&J, Matt. You don't mind if I hang out for a little bit, do you?"

"Er... no?" Matthias said.

"Fun fact." Trav jabbed a finger in the air. "The apartment keys in this building work on all the doors."

"So... so I could use my key on your apartment?"

"Sure could, and you're welcome to as long as you don't take my shit." Trav said. He smiled and Matthias found himself completely disarmed. He had never met another person who could simultaneously invade his space while simultaneously looking like the least threatening person on earth. Trav wasn't small by any means; maybe just under six feet tall and a little on the heavy side. Certainly big enough to take on a beanpole like Matthias. It was Trav's open, guileless expression that what made Matthias rethink running to his bedroom for a makeshift weapon.

"I'm uh... I'm going to get dressed." Matthias aimed a thumb towards the bathroom.

"Good idea." Trav said before turning to the TV and un-pausing his game.

Matthias fully expected to open the bathroom door, once he had finished pulling on his jeans and sweater, to discover that he had imagined Trav, his cast, and his sandwiches. He emerged minutes later to find that exactly none of it had been a hallucination caused by a gas leak from the oven, so he sidled up to the kitchen island and investigated the food.

"I didn't poison the peanut butter." Trav said over his shoulder.

Matthias picked up a sandwich and formulated the best way to tell this person that he wasn't welcome and needed to leave, but when peanut butter and jelly hit his tongue he realized that cup-o-noodles hadn't even touched the hole in his gut, and maybe it was a good trade to let Trav use his TV in exchange for a meal. He leaned his elbows on the counter and savored, watching Trav ride a horse around a western landscape on the screen.

After the sandwich Matthias pulled opened his laptop, which was still exactly where he had left it, and pulled up his email. He tried to discipline himself to only check it twice per day, even as he ached to spend his time refreshing it. A new email awaited and he took in a breath. "Barnham and Dunlap," he whispered, finger hovering. He hadn't meant to say it aloud, but the email came like a kick.

"What?"

"Barnham and Dunlap. An agent I was excited about." Matthias leaned his cheek into the heel of his free hand and stared down the email.

"Agent? Are you an actor or something?" Trav paused his game again and spun completely around on the beanbag, broken leg held awkwardly out in front of him.

"A writer." Matthias spoke into his palm.

Trav winced, his expression saying Oof sorry dude. "I didn't know you guys needed agents."

"If we want to be traditionally published we do."

"I don't know what that means, but how's it going?" Trav asked earnestly.

Matthias pried his eyes from the email and peered over the top of his laptop at his involuntary house guest. It was always difficult to tell how much people really wanted to know. Matthias had already learned in his short "career" that when people asked about your writing, they didn't really want to know. It was the "how are you" of the art world. Well, Matthias reasoned, if this man was going to take over his beanbag he could stand a dose of the nitty gritty.

"It's going... normally?" Matthias shrugged narrow shoulders. His wet hair was still dripping on his shirt leaving cold splotches. "I've been submitting my debut novel to agents for a few months, but nothing so far. It takes forever to get responses at all and even then they're usually just form letter rejections."

"You'd think they could at least send you something more personal." Trav gestured with the controller.

"Nah. They're busy." He refocused on the email, hovering the cursor. It was a form letter, he knew already, but as long as he didn't click there was still hope. "They get hundreds of submission at a time. I understand. I just wish the turn around was faster."

"Sounds frustrating."

Matthias' finger twitched, he wasn't certain if it was his choice, or just a muscle spasm, but there it was. "Thank you for trying, play again," he mumbled as he read the stilted lines of the email.

"Bummer, man." Trav said. He didn't turn around, instead watching Matthias with sympathy. "One of those things, huh? When your dream relies on other people?"

Matthias looked over the top of his laptop again and cocked an eyebrow. "Y-yeah. It kind of is." He met Trav's pale eyes, wondering where the hell this sympathetic weird-o had come from. Not this building, certainly. Had he wandered in from the street, some kind of understanding, homeless spirit? He shook his head tightly, water splattering from his hair and dotting his keyboard. That was his author brain again, making everything more fantastical than it was.

"What do you write?" Trav was earning more points by the second.

"Scifi this time. I've written a few other books before, but this is the first one I'm trying to get published." He clicked over to the list he had compiled of agents he wanted to submit to next and scrolled down names, pulling his thumbnail into his mouth to gnaw as he contemplated.

"That's really cool, man." Trav said before swinging himself back around using his leg as a counterweight.

Matthias began tailoring a new query letter to the sound of digital bullets and dramatic fight music. It was almost pleasant. He couldn't imagine trying to do this in a quiet apartment with only the sound of the radiator ticking and the wind whistling through the shoddily constructed window mountings, even though he had expected that to be his life from now on.

They pair remained quiet for some time, until Trav seemed satisfied with his gaming and turned off the system. "Can I leave this over here? You can play it whenever." Trav patted the playstation.

"Er, sure." Matthias said, closing his laptop. He hadn't had time to play many games in a while, but he had to admit he missed it. "D-do you need a hand?"

Trav was floundering on the beanbag again and Matthias had to work not to laugh. "Yeah." Trav went limp, and heaved a dramatic sigh. "Beanbags and broken legs don' mix."

"How'd you break it?" Matthias asked as he crossed the room and picked up the fallen crutch.

"Work." Trav said. "I was stocking on a ladder, wasn't supposed to. I was behind and my supervisor was a real asshole. If he found out I was off the strict schedule I'd be written up for the second time. So I just used the ladder by myself and, well, the rest is history." He gestured to his cast.

"Bummer." Matthias gave his neighbor a wan smile. He held out his free arm and Trav took it willingly. After some off balance scrambling Trav was on his feet and Matthias passed him the crutch.

"It really is because after all that, I got fired. Unsafe work practices. Just barely enough money to pay for this" He shrugged and slid the crutch under his arm. "Good news is, I got to meet my new neighbor." He held out his hand.

Matthias shook the offered hand. "I never knew the neighbors too well growing up. Too far apart with lots of corn fields in between. Then at school I hated the dorms. Everyone living on top of each other like sardines in a can. I did my best to be a hermit to be honest."

"All we have in between is a hallway." Trav grinned warmly. "Not quite sardines. Seriously though, if you don't want to see more of me just let me know, though I can sweeten the deal with the use of my one talent: sandwiches. Bet no one in the dorms thought of that."

"I... do like food." Matthias admitted sheepishly. Something about knowing that it was Travis across the way was less annoying and alarming than he might have thought. I wasn't as though Matthias had much worth stealing, if Travis was using unconventional methods for scoping the place out.