The Wandering Tenant Eve Schizer
I go about my daily business as usual. I leave the house early so as not to disturb my host and wander about the city. I like to watch people bustle about, speed-walking like their lives depend on it. No one notices me, though that is not unusual. I’d honestly be surprised if someone did notice me. I’m rather good at going unseen. I flit about, looking for a new home. I think I’ve rather worn out my welcome; I wasn’t at my best last week and I caused more of a ruckus than I typically like to. My host nearly called someone, something I try desperately to avoid. So, a new home is required. The only problem with this is that many of the suitable buildings and apartments already have tenants. Too many of us and things start to get… chaotic. Just when it seems I can find nothing suitable, a perfect home presents itself: a small apartment in an old building, a family of three, working parents and a child of five. Wonderful. I settle in with no fuss. It’s not like I have luggage that needs to be unpacked or anything of the sort. That evening, when I’m fiddling with the thermostat, the little girl approaches. “Hello,” she says, “what’s your name?” I look around, but there is no one else in the room but me and her. I look at her and her eyes lock on mine. I smile at her, my teeth as translucent as the rest of me. “It’s been a very long time since someone asked me that.”
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