There were two windows at the rear, both of which were wooden and warped with age and contained a single pane of glass similar to those in the home I’d grown up in, which is a way of saying that they’d do little to keep out the cold. The left wouldn’t budge when I tried forcing it open; I was able to muscle the right one up just enough to stick my head out. A view looking east, cold winter mornings with the first light of day as the sun reached over the lake. The tracks were just a few feet away, almost close enough to jump across to, and beyond those was the blank rear of the building opposite. I looked to the left and could see a train stationed at Addison coming our way. I pulled myself in and walked into the bathroom. One person could fit in it, two people could not; so small that I could literally shower, shit, and shave at the same time if I felt so inclined. The sink jutted away from the wall and over the toilet so that I’d have to piss while standing at a slight angle.

“Not exactly a generous bathroom,” Gene said.

I opened my mouth to respond but was interrupted by the train. It started as a low rumble, like the engine of a classic car, and quickly grew from there. The windows shook so violently I feared they might break. Gene stood smiling and it was pointless to talk; there was no way he’d hear me. I could see the tops of the steel wheels and the train’s bottom half flying by. Even the floor quivered and I thought the whole building might collapse. And just as it had slowly started, it just as slowly faded away. There’d be no silence here, chaotic quarters that’d offer security without any warmth.

“I recommend putting your bed away from the wall,” he said. “And earplugs aren’t a bad investment.”

“Wow, I think you might be full of shit saying one gets used to it.”

He grinned. “This is a tough apartment to rent,” he said, and a small bit of excitement bubbled up within me.

On the back wall between the two windows stood a hole a foot in diameter. The drywall had been smashed in, exposing the interior studs, plaster, and brick.

“What happened there?” I asked.

“No idea. Left over from the last tenant. He lost his job and just disappeared. Took me a few weeks to even realize he was gone. But it’ll be fixed if you take the place. And obviously everything will be scrubbed down and painted,” he said, and I wondered why he hadn’t done so already if he was truly serious about renting it.