The Ugly Side

Amanda's was a modest little apartment studio lot smack dab right in the middle of the beating, unsleeping heart of the city. It was the type of place where tall narrow buildings were tight-knit neighbors with other taller narrower buildings. 

If quiet, quaint living was where I stand with my choice of home, then Amanda's pick for a roof under her head was the total antithesis to that belief. Much like herself, her home was much the center for all rowdy happenings all at once. 

The closer we got to her place, the more skittish she became. She drove us into a row of high-rise complexes and was practically drifting across the turns in the parking lot just trying to get us there faster, then after she found her spot and killed the engine, somehow speedy breezy she was already swinging my door wide-open, dragging me out while I was still midway trying to unbuckle my seatbelt.