Under The Stairs

It was well past midnight, and I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Sleep was being a bitch and refused to come. Earlier, I’d spoken to Eric, informing him of my decision to buy the home, and he was more excited than I was.

“Man, that’s great news! If there’s anything you need, tell me. I got you covered, and hey, it’s a good step. You can move on and get a fresh start. Age doesn’t rewind, you know? Maybe find your pen, and pick it up? But hey, I gotta go. We got a newbie who signed with an illiterate asshole who thinks we’re paid to write for him. Talk again soon!”

That was the extent of his congrats, which was fine with me. He was still making money off of me, but the moment I start sending him transcripts and outlines, he’ll be up my ass, pushing me for even bigger dollar signs.

I still can’t figure out why I bought the home. Maybe I felt pushed or subconsciously wanted to stop running around. Who knows, if the place doesn’t work after I move in, I could always sell it to
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