Gemma skidded to a stop on the wooden hallway floor, though she managed to land a hand on the doorframe before she full-body slid into it. “I take it the last tenants left some things behind in your room, too?”
Tanya nodded. At least, Gemma thought she nodded. All she saw was a black shroud, bobbing in a nod-like fashion, silhouetted by the bright light streaming through uncurtained windows.
“It’s cool,” Tanya said, and the shroud moved again as she emerged from underneath what appeared to be black lace. Sunlight shone through now that her dark hair and clothing no longer blocked the view. “Lots of stuff in the closet that’s my size. And better yet, my style. Which is lucky. I can’t afford to be picky after putting down the deposit for this place.”
“Funny,” Gemma said. “I found a number of books that were mostly my taste, too. Even a few that’ll help my dissertation. But I started a pile in the living room for a few things I didn’t want.”
“I definitely want this.” Smug satisfaction lay thick in her voice. “Can you imagine if turn this into curtains? It’ll be like a rain of spiders.”
She sagged against the door and tugged her messy ponytail into a semblance of order after the long day moving in. “You’ll use it as a litmus test. See if they get nervous.”
“Seems logical. If they can’t handle a goth math nerd, they don’t deserve me.” Shrugging, Tanya tossed the black lace fabric toward the mattress precariously balanced against the wall. It wafted gently toward the floor and landed on the haphazard metal bedframe pieces that still needed to be put together.
She snorted, not bothering to pick it up. “I need a break, and my grandma sent a gift card for pizza to celebrate our new place, bless her. You want the usual?”
“Yeah. That’s one box I’ll be happy to see.” Trekking up three flights of stairs with innumerous cardboard boxes hadn’t been how Gemma had particularly wanted to start her long weekend, but . “And we still have a bottle of red. It got tucked in with my pillow somehow.”
“Ugh. Do you know which box has the corkscrew?” Tanya hit submit on their order and followed Gemma down the hall and nearly smacked into her as the other woman planted her stocking feet and facepalmed.
“Of course not. Why would we label anything?” She shook her head, annoyed with herself – as well as her drama llama hallway moves – and started for the kitchen. “Our own fault if we’re stuck with lukewarm bottled water.”
“I’m sure we need to rehydrate,” Tanya said primly, and slipped around her like a dark cloud of cargo pockets and spiked jewelry. She started banging cupboards and drawers. “It’s healthy. And look! Just what we need.”
“But…”
“It’s like they knew exactly what we needed and somehow left it all behind.”
“Yeah, but…”
A buzzing interrupted what she’d been about to say. Tanya pointed her fingers at Gemma and raced out their door, striped socks thumping on the stairs.
“Pizza!” the woman sang a few minutes later. “Hey, you didn’t open the wine.”
“I’m not sure we should, either.” Gemma held her hand over the pizza box’s opening. “Or eat this. Or live here.”
An eloquent eyebrow lifted. “This is a folklore thing?”
“You don’t think it’s too convenient? Everything we need or want, given to us? The bottle of wine that just happened to be in a box where it shouldn’t have been? Seriously, have you never heard stories about the fae?”
“You’re telling me that this place is our perfect apartment not just because it’s affordable, has a giant bathroom with a tub, and the landlady is a sweet little old lady, but because it’s magic?”
“Actually, I’m questioning whether it’s real,” Gemma muttered, still staring at the corkscrew. “And whether we’ll be allowed to leave.”
***
This week’s prompt was courtesy of nother Mike, about those crawly critters that I had to turn into something far less creepy. đ
Mine went to Becky – check out what she did with a cyborg cowboy, and more, over at MOTE!