Jane told me she loved me, I think. My Spanish is shit.
It was in September we met. I was still young then, twenty- something, but working on the line had turned me into an old-boned young man. My shift ended at midnight but by ten-thirty customers were few and far between, and as usual I found myself out at the bar watching beads of condensation sweat around the base of a glass. I was three deep, maybe four, when the midnight rains brought her to me.
She came in alone. I was sitting far-corner nearest to the kitchen and opposite the entrance. I watched her shake her brown face dry as she pulled back her heavy wet hair and found her seat opposite me. Her body was good, rich. Her thick chest stared back at me as she dropped her coat away. She noticed me staring and smiled.
I apologize ahead of time. This apartment is kind of a piece of shit. The landlord often disappears to somewhere that is not actually Bangladesh, so we make do with what we have. In order to utilize the house to its fullest, simply follow the instructions contained in this pamphlet.
If you have made it this far, I can only assume that you have made your way up the increasingly Rickety-Ass Steps to the fourth floor and somehow survived. Congratulations. As you can see, repairs have begun on these recently, and by recently I mean within The Past Year. They will not be finished. This is simply the way of things. Enjoy your trip down these upon your departure from the premises—they are substantially less frightening when declined, although no less dangerous. The doorknob falls off the front door sometimes. This is normal. Your hands will get greasy when you try to put it back on the sharp pokey handle, and you will want to wash them in the sink in the bathroom.