The house looked nice. It made me smile. I pressed the bell and it took forever for someone to answer.
"Hi! I'm Michelle. I'm here to see the room for rent."
"Huh? There's no room for rent here."
"Isn't this 60 Diamond Street?"
"No. That's the next one over. This is Collingwood."
There was no 60 Diamond Street. There was 64, 62, then 58...
56, 58, 62...
All the odd numbers stayed on the opposite side.
Back to the evens. Maybe at the end of the alleyway between the buildings?
Peeling paint on a white gate. Not appetizing.
The rest of the house was in pasty pink and then an overgrown archway came into view below the stairs leading to 64 and 62.
A door lingered in the murk. I hate the ground floor.
I knew it would smell, but knocked anyways.
This was 60. I wandered in and introduced myself to the 4-6 inhabitants. They barely acknowledged me. I've met them before. Ok, not these particular individuals but close enough:
A guitar for decoration. No, thank you!
"I'm not interested. I don't like living on the ground floor."
The curly one answered, "We don't like you either. We don't like your loud voice. Bye."
I chuckled as I left the house.