The funny thing about moving is that it's NOT as fun as all the adults make it sound.

"Oh, you'll make new friends! We'll see so many interesting things!" They'll say happily, clinking glasses with their new adult friends in their fancy dresses and suits, while little Timmy has to leave his entire world behind and, because he's going through puberty, he'll feel very alone and very sad, unable to make friends in this unforgiving world. 

I'll be the first to say that all that moving is such bull shit, something no one should ever have to go through. I never moved as a kid, because my family was perfect and we lived in a mansion and lived off of high-end foods served to us on a silver platter  by our butlers and maids. Now, I have to move at LEAST twice a month. Why? Because I kill people for a living. Sometimes for money, sometimes for fun. Why? Because it pays the bills and more. 

But lugging around heavy boxes full of pictures and lamps and plates every month is not fun. I don't own many things, a few pictures, some nice cups, and a few plates and utensils, and whatever books I can get my hands on but that's it. Nevertheless, it's still not fun to carry these things around, no matter where you're going. Especially when you're walking up steps, which I was doing right now. Someone with red hair was out in the hallway, and I tried calling to them, but they were talking to someone else and I don't think they heard me. If I'm to be honest, I could afford the most high end house in the fanciest neighborhood with the best security, but I won't do that because I can't, and now I'm living in this dump.

I sighed and continued to carry the box full of old books up the stairs, stumbling backwards once or twice. When I finally got to the top, I realized I would have to drag the box down. "Fuckin' shit man." I said, standing up fully to gaze upon the gloriously ugly hallway. My head almost touched the ceiling! Granted, I was almost seven feet tall, but the owners of this fine establishment should at least make the ceiling a little bit taller!

I looked up. The damp grey ceiling looked like it could barely hold itself up, let alone hold a whole other floor of people, yet it did. I let out a long breath (almost a sigh, but not quite) and continued to drag the box down the hallway. Only four more boxes to go!

After a few minutes of dragging and going back and forth, all of my boxes where outside of my new apartment, number 304. There was a tiny step in front of it, almost as if it was trying to elevate itself from this horrible house of horrors and architectural monstrosities. I opened the door, excepting the most ugly room you could've ever seen, but surprisingly enough, the room looked fine. 

Sure, it was a little rough around the edges, but it was nice looking, and that was all that really mattered. In one corner, there was a door, one that I presumed led to either a bathroom or a bedroom. In the other, there was a little kitchen with a nice fridge and oven and other things. The main room was quite large, and had a little t.v. and couch in it. Down another hallway were two more doors, which I again assumed would be either a bathroom or a bedroom. 

I started dragging the boxes in but didn't unpack, for I knew I wasn't going to stay long. The two boxes labeled kitchen, I brought to the kitchen. The box labeled bedroom I led over to one of the doors, hoping it was a bedroom, and upon finding that it was, I dragged the box in. The other two boxes held pictures and books. In the bedroom, I opened the box and laid three blankets down on the floor, along with two pillows. I put the box next to it, for I always used that box as a bedside table.

Man, looking at this apartment, I seemed poor. 

I wasn't poor, actually, I was quite rich, but for a while now I had not been able to have any true luxuries, like homemade soaps and stuffed animals and bubble bath. I knew that if I gave myself luxuries, I would never be able to stop, so I never did indulge in those kinds of things.

After what was basically unpacking for me, which only took three minutes, I decided I would go meet some of the people in the building. I would knock on their door, very politely indeed, and would kick down the door if they didn't answer, for not opening the door for a neighbor is rude.

Off I went, down the hall and down the steps, to the first room I would say hello too. The one where the red-headed boy who ignored me was.