Now, in my opinion, I think this is horrible. I’m looking for ways to make it better. Don’t just tell me what’s wrong with it, but what I can do to improve it. That’s what I’m looking for. Thank You.
After using the stairs of a long, five-floor walk-up apartment, we finally arrived at door 513. My mother and I both dropped the bags at the door as she searched her pockets frantically for her keys. She was always the one to misplace things, especially important things. Thankfully, today was not one of those days, and she found them after about two minutes of looking.
Inside the apartment, it was not what I had been expecting in the least. “Wow,” crept out from my lips while I searched the high-arched ceilings, draped down from them hung white cloth and from the large window at the end of the room were flowers hanging from poles upholstered above them. It was early, and the sunlight reflected off the whole room, illuminating it. When I first stepped in, I was in the kitchen, but the whole apartment was an open space, except for two hallways, one on either side of the space. The kitchen was long and white tiles ran across the floor beneath my feet, on the left hand side were the refridgerater and other kitchen utilities, on the right was a nice set up table with four wooden chairs surrounding it, with a vase in the middle. No flowers were inside the long, violet colored vase. Past the kitchen was a wooden floored room, bright from the day, the sun reflected off the two long stretched couches on either side of the room surrounding a large television, a coffee table right in the middle. It was original, but it was homey. I felt comfortable here already. I took off my shoes and started down one of the hallways, the right.
“You’ve got a good sense of direction,” My mother snickered, I guessed I was headed the right way to my new room. I smiled at her, and turned, continuing my journey.
The room reeked of fresh paint. The walls were creamy with blue ribbons dancing through the middle. I inhaled the scent of rejuvenation, a sense of a new beginning. I finally had a chance to start over. I set down my bags that I had carried in from the front room by the queen-sized bed in the left corner of the room. Of course my mother had chosen this room for me, she knew me all too well. I opened the sliding glass door, it stuck and I had to budge it open. I told myself to set a reminder to oil it later tonight. The balcony was not large, but not miniature, it was exactly right. I lifted my hand to feel the wind graze it. There was nothing on the balcony except for a small, black stool to sit on, to smoke. I looked down at the trees coming halfway up the building, the busy streets crowded with cars and people walking on the sidewalks. I felt exhilarating as I imagined letting my hair down so Jesse could climb up and save me.
Ugh, sidetracked again. Jesse would not be the one to do that. Not then, not now, not ever. I sat on the stool and hung my head towards the ground. I shouldn’t delude myself, I thought. Steadily, I sat back up, determined to begin that new life, and walked back into the house. I examined my room more thoroughly. A mohogany dresser was positioned across from the large bed, and a nightstand right next to the bed. I spotted a walk-in closet on the side of the room that I had came in through, I peeked in. There were a few new pairs of blue jeans that Pam must have picked out for me, a welcome home present. I blushed at the gesture, then composed myself.
“Mom!” I yelled so she could hear me from the other room, “You really didn’t need to buy me anything. It’s enough letting me stay with you.”
She came into the room then, knowing that I had settled, “I wanted to, now don’t give me any grief for it.” She said while she put her hands around my waist. I hugged her, and tried to hide my tears by pressing my face into her shoulder.
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