Member-only story
Living A Dangerous Existence
2001
The hostel was situated in upper Manhattan, on the west side. I tiptoed through the premises for three weeks, careful not brush any part of my body against certain surfaces, as they were infested with dirt and grime, the communal toilets and showers being the worst offenders. And the hostel was rife with skulking individuals, brazen thieves searching for every available opportunity to abscond with your possessions. Never once did I feel safe while staying there, as I became desperate to escape the place. So when I found an East Williamsburg apartment in Craigslist, I took the plunge, not knowing what to expect.
I simply adored the apartment, a spacious area that afforded residents their own bedrooms. Artwork adorned the living room walls, giving the apartment a beatnik ambiance. I loved it despite the critters — mice — that skittered across the floors after the night descended.
Only one of the two of us living in the apartment, Daniel, had signed a lease. So I paid my share of the monthly rent — twenty-one hundred dollars, absurdly cheap by today’s standards — to Daniel. He was often quiet, laid back, usually unobtrusive…but shifty as a fucking serpent. One afternoon I caught him in my bedroom, rifling through the contents of my duffel bag.
