NATE
sometimes the same is different, but mostly it's the same
these mysteries of life, that just aint my thing
these mysteries of life, that just aint my thing
Nate makes it a month. Give or take a week, dates get away from him, slip into each other until he’s barely sure if it’s night or day, his schedule based more on random whim than any accepted measurement of time. This time though, he knows it’s been at least a month. It didn’t work unless it has been, after all.
When he’s feeling generous, he calls what he does an opportunity, when he’s not it’s a grift. Get someone in, have them last as long as they can, collect rent. It’s not that Nate really needs a roommate, but sometimes he needs the cash. Sometimes, he really, really needs it, and that leads to him banging on the door of the second, smaller bedroom at some ungodly hour of the morning, the one clock that had been on the living/dining room wall claiming it was only ten, something even Nate can recognize as a lie.
If it was that early, there’s no way he’d still be knocking, pressed in against the door like it’s the cheap, flimsy pressboard that he’s about to extort and not the doe-eyed sucker behind it. A kid, in the sense that he wasn’t the usual kind of desperate who answered Nate’s ad. He was clean, and he paid in cash, and if it wasn’t for the naivety that rolled off him like a plume of smoke Nate would almost think it was a cover.
“Hey!” Knock knock knock. “Sunshine!” That wasn’t right, but it had enough of the same sounds to be a reasonable nickname. Probably. It was a nice nickname anyway, not like Nate was slurring bitchface. “C’mon, time to pay up buddy!”
When he’s feeling generous, he calls what he does an opportunity, when he’s not it’s a grift. Get someone in, have them last as long as they can, collect rent. It’s not that Nate really needs a roommate, but sometimes he needs the cash. Sometimes, he really, really needs it, and that leads to him banging on the door of the second, smaller bedroom at some ungodly hour of the morning, the one clock that had been on the living/dining room wall claiming it was only ten, something even Nate can recognize as a lie.
If it was that early, there’s no way he’d still be knocking, pressed in against the door like it’s the cheap, flimsy pressboard that he’s about to extort and not the doe-eyed sucker behind it. A kid, in the sense that he wasn’t the usual kind of desperate who answered Nate’s ad. He was clean, and he paid in cash, and if it wasn’t for the naivety that rolled off him like a plume of smoke Nate would almost think it was a cover.
“Hey!” Knock knock knock. “Sunshine!” That wasn’t right, but it had enough of the same sounds to be a reasonable nickname. Probably. It was a nice nickname anyway, not like Nate was slurring bitchface. “C’mon, time to pay up buddy!”
if i told you that i knew about the sun and the moon, I'd be untrue
the only thing i know for sure, is what i wanna do
the only thing i know for sure, is what i wanna do
