the apartment, the king size bed, and the 20 stuffed toys that inhabit it.

“i dont understand”, she frowns, “why is your apartment so small?”

my rented apartment isn’t small. but the fact that i shared it with three other people shrinked its entire existence into something really small. i shrugged and smiled at what i see; the housekeeper just left and so the entire living room was gleaming for the lack of mess.

“but you are earning a six-digit monthly salary. where did it go?”, she frowns in horror as she saw how my dining table looked like.

it was the same look of disbelief i saw on david’s face when he first came into the apartment. “honey,” he started, his voice already apologetic in a way that one’s voice would sound if you are about to say something you might need to apologize for later. “your apartment is smaller now that im standing in it.”

“your room is like a bed with four walls around it.” i heard him comment on the latter days. “it looks much bigger in skype.”

everything looks fatter on camera, silly.

but staring at my bed now, i know he was speaking the truth. the king-size bed is too puzzling big for the room. and why i purchased a king-size bed in the first place was a puzzle. perhaps, i was giving my saliva a challenge on dripping from my mouth and crawling towards the foot of the bed which would be like running from one football field end and back. or perhaps, i found it initially cute to have twenty of my stuffed toys sitting on the sides of the bed until i realized you can actually die from sudden fright when you opened your eyes in the middle of the night and the kitten’s glinting, brown eyes was staring back at you and the rabbit who was supposed to be lying on the headboard is now on his ass at the foot of the bed.

there were a few instances lately that i thought about moving out and living alone. that means not seeing my sister glued to her pc at 5am in the morning. or finding my cousin whipping up mangoes or watermelon or guava or his boyfriend standing just right inside the doorway and beside the sofa holding a box of krispy kreme doughnuts(offering one to me everytime inspite of the fact that he knows perfectly well i do not like doughnuts). or being surprised about finding chai at home and awake (we rarely see each other).

and there’s also foo, my next-door neighbor who has his own plate and mug in the apartment. and sometimes, his pans and pots, too. and yes, on few incidents, his towels.

i have thought of these and felt sure i can manage. it would be nice living the high life; instead of a second-floor unit in an apartelle, i would get one of those one-bedroom condominium units on the 30th floor. with a fancy theme (e.g. bohemian!). and a fancy address. and david and i can run around the entire unit, naked or not (but naked most probably), doing what we fancy doing.

i have thought of these, all these, and it was a very tempting thought. i could afford it (there was no question of that). i do deserve it (god, i worked for optimum living).

but i do not want to go home to an empty place. not after a hard day’s work. not after a fight with friends (i only have few of them left). not after a bad, trafficked-ingested journey home.

the apartment is small, yes, but that is where home is right now. and i honestly believe i could live with that for the present.

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