My New Home

Threadbare, uninviting, almost claustrophobic, And cold. I could not afford heat. I put on the lights and felt an icy solitude. No home sweet home for me. Would I get attuned to my new apartment? Lonely, I ate my packed tasteless food quickly, changed into a cosy track suit, switched off the lights and went to bed hoping for pleasant elusive dreams. Suddenly melodic tunes infiltrated my slumber. I wake. Upstairs someone must love old time songs. Like a somnambulant I climb the stairs and knock. She was like a mirage, shimmering in the haze of a desert. Silently she beckoned me inside the warm room. My name is Angel, she whispered. And the dance began, Until tired, the haze of the desert enveloped me too. Much later I woke. I was in my bed. Was it a dream? Probably. The landlord said the upper flat was empty still, But to be occupied that day, Someone called Angel. That night I did not sleep, but waited for the music to start.