I stand up to stretch after moving the last of those horrible boxes. Everywhere I look, I just see plain walls and that awful beige cardboard everywhere. Cardboard has a scent, you know, especially when it gets wet. It smells like sadness. 

Even if the last owners had done their best with the cleanup and everything. My apartment had a long way in becoming, well, home. Because right now? It felt more like a glorified box filled with even more boxes.

Wow, Kai, way to bring the mood down.

"Yeah, mom, I'm doing fine. Uh-huh. I have to go, I'm so sorry. I gotta make dinner before turning in that article. Yeah, yeah, I will." 

I tuck my cellphone to my other ear, nesting it in the crook of my shoulder as I try to roll the crick out from my neck. Trying to massage out the pain of only hiring movers to get the boxes into the truck, but not out of it. 

"Yeah mom, love you too. Bye." 

I hang up and finally take a proper look around my new abode. It's a nice space. My own bathroom. My own bedroom. A decent combined living room and kitchen area. The hum of a new(ish) fridge that I begged the past owners to let me keep. A crochet blanket from... my ex. 

It was of good craft and a pretty design, a star-shaped blanket with multiple interchanging colors, a whole array of gemstone shades like amethyst and azure and obsidian. I remember pretending not to see my former girlfriend as she snuck away to make it in secret for my birthday-- to keep it a surprise. I'd do anything to make her happy. Well, I did, anyway.

I can't believe I kept this thing around. 

The blanket warmed me, but it was inevitably interwoven with a string of complex, tangled memories... and I blush out of habit to remember a few of them all too well. 

Memories of how her hands felt on my skin. Of how good it felt to wrap my fingers round her waist and bring her tight against my body. How she complimented my (nonexistent) muscles from a lazy gym routine. How right it felt to have her eyes only on me and...and then... 

Then those eyes were on somebody else.

And it still smelled like her. Dammit.

I drape the blanket by the windowsill next to the temperature-control unit to try to air the thing out. Get every memory of her out of it. I rub my knuckles into my lower spine as I go to the bathroom because suddenly my bladder's full to bursting and universe above I really have to pee. I sprint to the bathroom, hoping I'm not getting any dirt from my shoes on the nice, new tile. My mom would kill me if she knew I wore shoes in my new home.

I gasp, my hand freezing on the light switch. There's a pair of eyes in the mirror staring into mine. But they're set a bit shorter than me. A really pretty hazel color that I most certainly do not have. Those eyes have immensely long lashes to boot. Like princess lashes, I swear it. And it reminds me of first nights in dance halls and flirtatious glances across bars and--

And there's an intruder in the apartment. 

Where I'm entirely alone. 

And no one can hear me scream. 

Dammit! Act fast, Kai!

I turn the light switch on, my thumb moving on reflex. The set of mystery eyes disappear. I only stare at my reflection. Short dark hair. Tan skin. Firmly brown-black eyes. Most certainly not iridescent hazel. 

I shake my head, spitting into the sink. Shaking my shaggy cropped hair out. I need a haircut. I think. Then, unable to get the image of those eyes from my brain, add: 

...and maybe a drink.