1 The Block of Third and Fourth Street

The keys stuck a little more than I had assumed they would. It took me a moment to pull them out of the locks, a period of awkwardness and fumbling in the small hallway.

I was squished between the washer and dryer, my doorway, a staircase, and my piles and piles of bags. There was mess from other tenants, mess from the dirty space. Once I got the door open, after much of a struggle, I pushed everything of mine inside and closed the splintery wood behind me. The door stuck too. A small thing I would have to get used to the more I came in and out.

The rent the owners offered me made more sense once I entered the apartment. Dirt cheep, yes, but it was also just about as cramped as the hall I was in before. I assume that once I had unpacked more, the space would look better. Boxes were scattered around, and there was only a few doorways, one being a sliding door to a patio, two pocket doors to the bathroom and a small closet, and the doorway I had just come in through.

Walking around the place, traversing through all the cardboard, and avoiding cobwebs, I was able to get a better understanding of the place. The bathroom and kitchen were the only rooms with stuff in it. Basic home items, mostly, the coolest being a microwave. I made a mental note to not buy one later on. Luckily, everything I ordered online seemed to be here, boxes from IKEA and other such places were stacked around the studio. All of my new life rested in here, and seeing it packed away made me realize how little I had to my name.

The fourth hour of building hit me hard. I was awake for God knows how long today, and I was tired. My bed seemed like the best place in the world tonight, and as I laid down on the plush blankets, I was out. Sleep came over me much faster than I thought it would. But It didn't last long.

A knock at my door jolted me awake. It was followed by another, and then once more before everything fell silent. I nearly fell over in the rush to answer, something fell of a shelf, and I knew my home was a mess.

A smiling young man greeted me. Softly curled hair sat like a mop atop his caramel colored skin.

"I know this isn't much, but I brought you a shepherds pie. From the bakery downstairs," he nodded down to the takeout bag in his hands, and I took it with a smile.

"Thank you, I hadn't even realized how hungry I was," I joked, not sure where to go with this. I had never been in this situation before.

A laugh escaped his lips, "oh I feel that."

Taking a step into my studio, I invited him to join me. I hadn't even seen the dish yet, but I knew there was no way I would be able to eat it all myself. The bag felt heavy, and it seemed massive. Plus getting to know a neighbor was probably something I should do.

He accepted my offer, and we chatted quietly as I cleared off my new table and chairs. I tried to apologize for the mess, but it was quickly brushed off.

"I'm Scott, by the way. I work at the comic shop," conversation turned towards talking about ourselves, and what brought us to living in this building. We shared back and forth, just surface level information, while we ate off plastic plates on uncomfortable and unfinished furniture.

After an unknown amount of time, Scott had to leave for the night, "gotta close up the shop. But I'll see you later, uhm, Eden, right?"

And after my small nod, he was gone, vanishing down the staircase in the hall. I was left alone once more, with nothing but my fortress of unopened boxes. My only company was my potted succulent, sitting on the windowsill by the bed. Or was. Was sitting on the shelf, before it fell in my hurry to greet Scott. A moment of grief came over me whilst I taped the pottery back together. Temporary, but a fix.

I may have been considered crazy, but just talking to the thing while I worked away, made me feel less alone. While I understood that this new feeling was something I needed to acclimate to, I just wanted to push it out of my mind, and focus on the good parts of my life.

I had a place of my own, a studio I could make into my home. A good enough stream of income, money to pay the bill, and some pocket change to get me by. I prayed that this new place would be a better place, give me some wiggle room with my budget.

Currently, I didn't have much wiggle room around the place. A slow work in progress was good enough for me, and with my belly full, I knew it was finally time for me to get some real sleep.

Over the next day an a half or so, I unpacked, built, and moved around everything. I set up my clutter, my storage, and everything I would need, just were I wanted it. The place seemed calmer than when I first came in. It seemed like it was finally my space, and not just the attic of building outside of Portland, Oregon.

I never knew where I wanted to live, just that I wanted out of where I was born. When I saw the listing for this place, I settled on it. Anything other than my parents basement was perfect. Even so, I didn't think of this place as my dream, just yet. A lot of work still needed to be done, and with the last few hours of daylight, I got in my car and tried to find some place to get what I needed.

A local animal shelter. I hoped that inside their brick walls would be my new friend. The hardest part of moving to a new place was making friends, so why not adopt one.

Paperwork upon paperwork, sign here and also here, check this off, and sign this last form. Don't forget to buy this, and you might want to invest in this thing too. My mind was spinning, so much information to take in, and by the end of everything my wallet was pretty much empty. But, I was taken into the back, where the sounds of barking dogs filled my ears.

After nearly three hours I was back in my bed. But this time, I didn't have to fall asleep alone.

Foxer was a six-ish month old mutt. He was surrendered to them when he was a tiny pup, and after months of waiting, he had his new home.

While his somewhat matted dark fur didn't stand out against my blankets, his size made him easily find-able. I was told that he wasn't full grown, a thought that scared me. A little friend was what I wanted at first, but I fell in love with his adorable face.

'I have officially spent my first week in my own home. It has been an odd experience, living by myself. By day three I realized that I actually hate living by myself and I went out and got a friend. A mutt named Foxer, a wolfhound mix I think. I don't know dogs too well, but after googling around, he kinda looks like one. If anyone knows feel free to let me know.

Enough about me, more about the stories you actually came here to see. I should be able to get back to my normal schedule pretty soon, just stay tuned for new updates because I am honestly not sure how well I will be able to start up again. A new chapter of Angels should be out by Tuesday, Wednesday at the latest. Birds should follow the same pace as normal, since it takes longer for me to actually write and stuff. I get to be lazy if I want.

Like always, my socials are in my bio, so you can give them a follow if you want to see more about me, or see adorable pictures of Foxer in my messy room.

Your puppy obsessed author, Eden Blair Thomas.'

I posted the update and closed my laptop. I couldn't be bothered to respond to messages and the comments that were sure to come flooding in. Wrongly, I thought that having this space would make it easier to work, but my mind was distracted, and there was nothing a new space could do to fix that.

Scrolling on my phone was a way of undistracting my mind, and so that's what I did. Posted on Instagram, read a few chapters of my friends book, trying to steal ideas from their brilliant minds. I knew that all this was fruitless, but maybe if I told myself it would help, it would at Some Point.

Some Point seemed like a far off time, maybe I'll reach it, or maybe I will not. But currently, Some Point had yet to come this first week.