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Our old apartment
Every corner is lived in, every shelf filled. The paint on the walls is thick enough to peel, and if you look you’ll find the flakes of paint me and my sister peeled off and hid. By the kitchenette is a doorway, covered in measurements. The tallest is mine, 4’ 1”. The shortest is Lucy’s, because she was a baby here. I was a baby in a different house I don’t remember. There’s a few dates missing, inches Lucy grew in Florida when she moved away with her mom. Daddy was sad when she moved, I made him a painting to cover the hole in the wall he made. She’s back now though, 3’ 3”. Through the doorway is the small table me and my sister eat at, right by the fridge. We stuck a gem on the wall, at midnight it will open a portal to another world. Our green couch has tears in it from jumping while dancing to the Futurama intro. There’s no jumping aloud in this apartment, our downstairs neighbor is mean. I like to touch the tv and feel the static, it’s soft… how can I feel it but not see it? The big bay windows behind the TV let light in that covers every inch of the apartment. Picture books fill the bookshelf next to the couch, a sunscreen bottle covered in dust (daddy always forgets to put it on us… him and I never get burnt but Lucy does, and her mom got mad), and Daddy’s camera. Daddy’s bed is up against the wall behind the couch, blocking a door that leads to another world, like in Coraline. It’s actually a second door to me and Lucy’s bedroom that we don’t use, but who’s to say it’s not blocked off for some other reason? In our room, two mattress frames lay side by side, touching each wall. It used to be a bunk bed that Daddy and his friends made for us, but Lucy’s mom found a crack in it when picking her up once, so now it’s just two frames on the floor. Our small dresser takes up the last bit of space, filled with mismatch socks that can only hope to be reunited with their pair. I’m pretty sure our room is actually a closet, because Dad says we have a studio apartment. Every night, me and Lucy peak out the crack in our door that’s too old to fully close and watch our dad’s cartoons. My favorite character is the one with the red and blue poofball hat. Across from our door is the door to the bathroom, and in between that is the closet that has our picnic blankets, beach toys and my dads old surf boards. He says he can’t surf as much anymore because he’s fat, but he’s not fat at all. He probably just has to stop smoking on the escape stairs out the window. Our bathroom has a big window that’s all warped so you can’t see out of it, and a bottle of bubble bath me and my sister made ourselves. My favorite part of my apartment is the orange hammock daddy hangs up sometimes, and our beta fish named Tang. We used to have two other goldfish that we won in a game at our neighbor Alana’s birthday party, but Daddy put their bowl too close to Tangs and they got scared to death before we came back from our Mom’s houses just two weekends later. Tang was a gift from Andrea, who I think was his girlfriend. She’s a painter, she painted a beautiful woman on one of Daddy’s surf boards. We haven’t seen her in a while though, I don’t think they’re friends anymore. It’s Saturday morning and Daddy is asleep on his bed behind us, as we watch Sesame Street. My stuffed bear Rufus is currently in the time out chair for jumping on the couch, but Bob Schmitt and Lucy’s lovie are in our arms. When Daddy wakes up we’ll walk to the cafe next to Upper Playground and get chocolate croissants. Me and Lucy will play on the fire hydrant, and maybe Alana and her dad Jed will pass by and we’ll play together. We’ll go to Dolores park and listen to the music, meet doggies, ask to try people’s slack lines, and when we hear the ringing bells of ice cream carts, Daddy will give us five dollars to each get a powerpuff girl popsicle. We’ll walk home and stop by the corner store, and I’ll watch the F trollies pass our block, crowded with people as he buys a pack of Marlboro reds and two tootsie pops.
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this weatherrrr
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Whoops
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