724 Scudder Street. The man online was literally begging for someone to take it. Ebay's a pretty fun place to go through, but you rarely find someone selling a house for twenty-five dollars. I'd wanted out of my parent's home for months, and here was the ticket outta there. I bought a ride, and as soon as I grabbed my stuff out of the car, the driver raced off.
It was one-story, two beds and two bathrooms. There was a small front-yard and an equal-sized backyard. Both looked like a lawnmower had never been used. The house was gray, white, and reminded me of all the foreclosed places after the Recession.
A couple of dead-looking trees stood around, seeming out of place. I sympathized. Looking at the neighborhood, I noticed most people here were either elderly or young couples without kids. Wonderful. I needed the quiet.
After a few minutes of looking over the outside and the neighborhood, I pulled out the key and unlocked the door. As I did so, a strange feeling overcame me. My mind raced. Please don't be an attack. Please. Please. After a moment that felt like hours, it passed. Exhaling, I open the door.
The living room was relatively clean, barring the visible dust everywhere. There was a couch, two recliners, as well as a love-seat. They looked like a new purchase if the year was '64. The floors were wood, and there was a ratty rug covering most of the living room.
I laid my bags down on the couch and sat. I saw that the stand in one corner had a TV; I found the remote and turned it on. This is weird. I had a momentary worry that this was all some scam or a sick joke. Of course, it'd be my dumb ass that would fall for it. The fear didn't leave me as I continued to explore the house, which was well-furnished and in semi-decent condition. The breaking point was the fridge. Stocked. My mind starts racing. Heartbeat, erratic. Can't. Breathe.
