Aspect Apartments

The Accord came to rest and the engine’s whine gave way to a breathless ticking. There were only two boxes in the back seat, the sole possessions of a man who had passed through nine states and three time zones, finally coming to rest in a sprawling and nearly barren parking garage beneath a large apartment complex. The driver, slight in build and slighter in consequence, had left no one behind to miss him and only a promised job and the leasing agent he had spoken to on the phone were expecting him here. Moving West was supposed to knock the black dirt off his boots, trade it for salty air and basalt dust. Now, life could proceed down an alternate, a more distinguished fork. A route winding through the shade of mountains and wise, old trees, or so he imagined. Somewhere near the stem of his brain, grand scenes and geographies had been flashing beneath awareness, imaginings born of picture books and nature shows from years ago.

“Of course! That’s what we’re here for; I’m just glad you finally made it. And I’m sure you’re exhausted so let me just get your signature on the lease and the community guidelines and I’ll take you up!”

Her heels clicked into stale echoes as he followed back through the garage to a glass door marked “Elevator Seven”. While they waited inside, he asked how many elevators there were in all.

“Nine. Well, nine you can get to from here,” she smiled. “I don’t know how many in the whole property. You’ll have to get an official count once you get settled in and let me know.”

As they walked she pointed out the amenities. Rooftop pool and dog park. Social lounge with billiards and arcade games. Full gym. Still beaming, she extolled each as they passed but their utter stillness shouted over her. As if prompted, the agent reassured him that the new light rail line would bring a vibrant cast of young professionals from the city once construction completed. He wouldn’t hold his breath for happy hour and bocce ball by the pool. A series of hallways followed but each turn offered no distinction from the last and his mental record of the way they had come soon faded to a fogged labyrinth of “sleek, modern fixtures and finishes” and a lingering chemical scent of paint. Each passage stretched before and behind, no landmarks by which to orient, only closed doors. Finally, she stopped at a door no different than any of the last hundred but this one, she confirmed on the paperwork, was his. She showed him into the furnished studio, small and clean, and pointed out all of the features. The comforter was tucked beneath the mattress, neat and pressed. He stood at the window and his eyes lost focus in a sea of evergreens dwarfed by his vantage. Would he be able to see people passing from here? Would light from the life buzzing below, glints of lovers and locomotion, still reach his towering windows or had he ascended too far?

“Well, I think that about covers it!” Interrupting his spiraling, she stood holding the door open. “We hope you enjoy your new home here at Aspect and if you need anything, you know where to find me.”

With the click of the door, silence descended on the space. He recalled some fragments from her spiel on the way here——no neighbors on either side, below, or above. He had no idea how many walls, how many layers of concrete and drywall and rebar stood between him and the nearest living soul. It felt more hotel than home anyway. People drifting in, drifting out. He wasn’t convinced that anyone really lived here. At the center of this vacant cross the emptiness pressed in from all sides and he shook himself suddenly so as not to linger too long in the loneliness of it.

After driving all day he was exhausted and with feet shuffling and eyes heavy, he left a trail of clothes in his wake. He dislodged the linens and fell headfirst into dreams of vertigo and ambiguously marked crossroads. Spiraling down and down, he slept for hours and the last of twilight’s beams slid off the edge of the ceiling. He slept for days and the job he was promised dissolved. He thought it might never have existed to begin with. Sometimes at night he would lie awake and imagine ornate symphonies of human sound just to feel the illusion of life in his ear. A rumbling of chairs sliding back from the dinner table, steaming dishes and clattering plates dangling in a plane several feet above his head. The soft brush of the couch against the wall beside him as a movie began and the viewer settled in. A skittering of clawed paws charging the front door next door. Even punctuated notes of lovemaking would rise from below on occasion and he was not bothered; he welcomed their company. He slept for weeks and time continued to slow down for him and, though he had long ceased to perceive its passing, he felt his soul grow first restless, then draw weary and, finally, resolve to wither away in that soulless hive.

One day he did stumble into a rare moment of lucidity as he passed the front door and a glossy pile on the floor caught his eye. Stooping, he took a number of envelopes in his hands and their contents told him a story of a one-way trip, a descent without return.

“OVERDUE RENT - Second Notice”

“OVERDUE RENT - Final Notice”

“NOTICE OF EVICTION”

“CONDEMNED This Structure Is Declared Unfit For Human Occupancy or Use.”

“SUMMONS …hereby summoned for judgement… not eligible for penance plan…”

And the last, the final piece, had been slid under his door quietly in the night like the others to avoid interrupting his unraveling. The last was a pamphlet. He read the front twice then a third time, flipping to the back as if the joke would be explained there. Time stood still again and the pamphlet, now frozen in his hand for an effective eternity, read:

“We can’t believe it’s been an aeon already! It’s time to renew your lease. We hope you stay with us forever.”