Pawn walked up the steps to the entrance of his apartment building. He shifted the plastic grocery bags to one hand and pulled open the heavy glass door with the other. He passed a wall of mailboxes and ascended a flight of steps to the second floor. He hated the layout of the second floor. The walls were brick and looked nice enough, but getting to his door required that he make a blind left after ascending the steps. Aside from it being a great hiding spot for anyone waiting to ambush him the tan industrial tile there was stained brown with some unknown substance. The short list of things that dried brown was decidedly unpleasant. He pulled his key from his pocket, opened the door, and pushed through, closing it quickly behind him. He set the dead bolt and turned into the apartment. The lights were already on; he never turned them off.

The apartment smelled like a combination of new paint and stale urine. The walls were clean and white. The carpet was various shades of brown; he guessed it had once been tan. It had probably been a cream color when installed. Keeping his shoes on as a sanitary consideration, he walked to the kitchen and unloaded the two bags of groceries. Placing the empty bags neatly under the sink, he walked to the solitary bedroom.

His new digs were best described as "minimalist." A sleeping bag, a cheapo computer desk, and...