Fanny Mae watched as the landlord hobbled out the door, relying heavily on her one good leg. She looked down at the silver key in her hand, turning it over and over, inspecting the dull, rusty surface. "Apartment 556C...Welcome home Fanny Mae..." she muttered to herself. A cold Fall wind came through the open window, sending a violent shiver down her back. They didn't have weather like this in Alabama. She pushed and pulled until finally the stubborn window shut with a thud. She looked out the window at the bus stop on the corner of Rouse Boulevard and Dublin Lane, the one at which she stepped off the bus only 15 minutes earlier. The bent bus sign stared back at her, only reminding her of the life from which she fled.
Fanny Mae glanced around the desolate apartment and it stared back at her with desperate, bitter loneliness. She immediately felt a connection with the place. She loved its imperfection: the paint chipped walls, the scuffed floors, and the cracked ceiling. Despite all this apartment had been through, it was still warm and ready for the next inhabitant. Fanny Mae walked out of the apartment, hoping to find a place to buy furniture for her new apartment. She shut the door behind her, turned the key, and heard the clink of the dead bolt lock the door. Fanny Mae turned and headed down the stairs.
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