“Where’s the bathroom?” I ask.

“Down the hall, to the right.” She makes a face. “Oh, technically Todd has it booked for shower time from five to six, he’s a nightshift worker, but if you need to use it you could probably just slip in quick. Todd’s super nice. He’s my neighbor. Doesn’t get out much so sometimes when our schedules align, we have wine night in the hallway and play gin rummy.”

I’m completely caught off guard by the bathroom situation, I can’t even rib her for her lackluster social life.

“You share a bathroom? With a guy?” I have a hard time keeping the irritation out of my voice.

“Yeah.” Chloe lets out an exasperated sigh. “It’s not like we’re in there at the same time. And we’ve established ground rules. Like no peeing in the shower or other bodily substances,” she makes a jerking off hand gesture, “I’m sure you’re familiar. And I do my best to not get hair in the sink. Todd had a huge problem with the man that lived here before me. I guess he would brush his wigs over the sink and the whole sewer system backed up.” She pauses to take a breath. “Anyway, it’s nothing compared to sharing with three younger sisters. That was a horrific experience.”

The bulb flickers above our heads.

“What was that?” I ask.

“Nothing.” Chloe feigns innocence, but I know that can’t be the first time that’s happened.

I take another look around. Even if I had the door fixed, added in a security panel for the building downstairs, and hired someone to deep clean the bathroom weekly, none of that would give me peace of mind.

“You can’t stay here,” I say.

“What do you mean? I live here. I’ve been living here for two years.”

“Because I didn’t know,” I mutter, checking out the loose wire coming from the corner of the ceiling.

“I appreciate your concern but I’m good here. It fits my budget.”

A door slams above us and tiny pieces of loose brick from the wall sprinkle onto Chloe’s hardwood floor. My eyes take in the tiny chips of brick and then my gaze lifts to hers. She grabs her hand broom and dustpan to quickly clean up the debris.

“It doesn’t feel safe. You couldn’t even get out that window if there was a fire. And that’s saying something.”

“Ah, small person jokes. You’re hilarious.”

“I like that you’re small,” I say without thinking.

“What?” Her head jerks in my direction.

“Nothing.” I clear my throat, bringing focus back to the point that I need to make. “My girlfriend would not live here.”