Cindy's New Apartment

"Well, this is interesting," Martha said as she saw how her friend was living. "It's more studio than apartment, I would say."

This was a reference to the fact that the only thing for decoration in the place was an unfinished canvas which Cindy referred to as "Blue". At least, Martha thought it was unfinished. She didn't like to comment as Cindy had been all over the place since she had moved out and ended her relationship with Ross.

"Yes, well, it's not much," Cindy explained, "but it is mine."

There was a desk littered with possessions: books, papers, a water bottle, old wrappers. Martha noted that the apartment was sparse but where there was furniture, it looked chaotic, disordered. The bed was a mattress and was unmade, Tracey Emin-style. A small kitchenette provided a place to prepare victuals and a door in the corner revealed a tiny bathroom. Martha knew that Cindy would have to stoop in the shower and could wash her hands whilst sitting on the toilet, such was its tiny-ness. It wasn't something that Martha would have considered a home but then she had not been through what Cindy had to extract herself from Ross.

"And I am happy here," Cindy said, looking directly at her friend and noting her concerned look. "Really." She smiled warmly and Martha felt relieved as she could see that it was genuine.

"So, what do you think?" Cindy spun around. "I even tidied when I knew you were coming," she said cheekily, knowing that Martha had already checked out the mess.

"It has potential..." Martha started but Cindy interrupted.

"It's a shit-hole," Cindy said and Martha laughed, the unspoken having been voiced, dissipating any tension that had been there. Cindy continued, "But this is all a wife escaping her unhappy married life can afford in London on her meagre wage."

Martha said, "Oh, Cindy" and went over to her friend and hugged her, holding her tight and trying to imbue her with some comfort and the warmth she felt for her dear friend.

Cindy felt emotional but not sad.

She had nothing, true, but the only thing that was blue in this room was the painting.

***

365 words

I seem to be writing a lot about unhappy relationships. The minutiae of everyday life, I suppose.

Thanks for stopping by! If you do read this, please do leave a comment as I do love to interact with my readers.

80/366