We like our apartment for the plain and simple reason that it’s ours. By “we” I mean Gus, Simone, and I. Gus still has the body of a teenager: long arms and legs that have outgrown his torso. He’s a nice guy, if a little full of himself sometimes. A sociology student, but we don’t hold it against him since he makes great pesto. Gus works at a used book and record store, where he blows a third of his paycheque on dusty CDs and books. They pile up in stacks on the floor of his room, eighteen items high on average. (I never got out of the habit of counting stuff.) His organizational system isn’t infallible, though. Gus is always surprised to discover that he has bought multiple copies of the same item. If it’s something half-decent, and we happen to be around when he realizes, Simone or I will inherit the extra copy. At other times he forgets all about these moments of generosity. He’ll go searching through our rooms, and sometimes he’ll come across something he remembers buying. Then he’ll accuse us of stealing his shit. Until we locate the other copy of the book or album tucked away at the bottom of a pile somewhere. Then all is forgiven.

Simone is Gus’s cousin. She has no idea how to dye her hair properly. She’s worried about burning her scalp with the lightening solution, so her hair always looks greasy, because the part that grows back is always a shade darker than the rest of her hair. But she’s also a cheapskate, so there’s no way she’d go to a hairdresser. Oh, and she makes her own clothes. Baggy sewn or knit ensembles that are far too fragile for our old washing machine. Simone washes everything by hand. Need I mention that she’s not about to use the dryer? So her clothes are always stretched out on a drying rack in the corner of the kitchen. We don’t have an exhaust fan over our stove, and our windows don’t open in winter. So you can well imagine the smell of wet clothing, cooking, and cigarettes that constitutes our apartment’s particular atmosphere.

Simone dreams of being a photographer, which is unfortunate since digital photography is poised to annihilate that possibility. Especially since she’s not overly endowed in the talent department. And it’s not exactly easy to stand out today, when everyone spends all their time taking pictures. Her work looks pretty much like what anyone could do with a two-thousand-dollar camera.