When Tanya unlocked the door and I stepped inside, the first thing that hit me was how much it didn't feel like a stranger's apartment. It felt like a place out of a catalog, neat, sharp, controlled. The floors were polished wood, not a single shoe out of place in the small rack near the entrance.
A coat rack stood lonely, holding only one black trench coat that looked like it had never been wet before in its life. Everything screamed minimalism, but not the poor kind, either. this was the kind where every object was intentionally chosen, expensive without being flashy.
The living room stretched open, lit with gentle amber from a standing lamp instead of harsh white bulbs. A long gray sofa, straight and firm, hugged the wall, accompanied by a single coffee table with nothing but a ceramic cup sitting on top. No mess, no magazines, no snack wrappers, no piles of laundry threatening to kill me if I breathed wrong.
