The house was surprisingly devoid of objects. The only things one could find in there were plastic utensils and plastic plates, glasses. There were no devices around, no computer, no stereo, no TV, not even light bulbs, for some bizarre reason the housekeeper never understood. There weren't any bathroom stuff either, no towels, no shampoo, no sponges. The house was underdecorated, it hardly even had the walls painted after he moved in. No one was sure that he even stayed there at any time, because the bed still had that transparent cover on, made of plastic.
Little did they know that he was there all the time, just too quiet for them to hear. Living alone, like a prisoner. The only people he would see were the housekeeper that was coming by every month for the rent and that woman, a bit older than him, from the sight of it. And not bad looking either. The neighbours would peek from their doors every time she appeared with her fancy car, her business suit and her red hair that barely reached her neck. She always carried a picnic basket with her and a briefcase made of some non-metallic material. She was quite pretty, in a dangerous fashion, but she would always visit him once in a while, with that basket and that briefcase, though the briefcase was only showing up once per month.
She was the only visitor that didn't mean to ask him for the rent and the only person that came in and out of that apartment. He wasn't ever leaving.
So, just like that, she appeared one more time, with the same basket and the same briefcase. She walked in the building and headed straight to his apartment. She knocked the door and he let her in. She took a pair of rubber gloves and put them on, before handing him the briefcase.
"You didn't miscount, I hope." He said.
"I told you, Neil, I could buy this little sorry apartment for you, instead of worrying every time for the freaking rent. Paying rent is so... Not my style."
"I am not sure how long I'll get to stay here, so I don't want you to make an investment that won't work." She chuckled in response.
"When will you learn? All of my investments work. Oh, I brought something Greek this time. I don't remember how my chef called it. Moussaka, I think." She said and put the basket on the table. He approached and took a tupper from inside. He opened it, grabbed one of the plastic forks and started eating.
"I am working on a cure, you know. So that you'll get back."
"There's no cure, Eleanor. Nothing can fix this."
"You never know. I am not giving up on you, like you never gave up on your dreams until now. This situation has cursed you and I am not letting you throw everything away just because you can't touch anything or anyone. I will find a way to get this thing away from you or I'll make a special section, entirely made of rubber, just for you."
"That's sweet, but yeah, try focusing your powers on something else, something more important." She threw a side-glare at him.
"Nothing is more important than you."
Little did they know that he was there all the time, just too quiet for them to hear. Living alone, like a prisoner. The only people he would see were the housekeeper that was coming by every month for the rent and that woman, a bit older than him, from the sight of it. And not bad looking either. The neighbours would peek from their doors every time she appeared with her fancy car, her business suit and her red hair that barely reached her neck. She always carried a picnic basket with her and a briefcase made of some non-metallic material. She was quite pretty, in a dangerous fashion, but she would always visit him once in a while, with that basket and that briefcase, though the briefcase was only showing up once per month.
She was the only visitor that didn't mean to ask him for the rent and the only person that came in and out of that apartment. He wasn't ever leaving.
So, just like that, she appeared one more time, with the same basket and the same briefcase. She walked in the building and headed straight to his apartment. She knocked the door and he let her in. She took a pair of rubber gloves and put them on, before handing him the briefcase.
"You didn't miscount, I hope." He said.
"I told you, Neil, I could buy this little sorry apartment for you, instead of worrying every time for the freaking rent. Paying rent is so... Not my style."
"I am not sure how long I'll get to stay here, so I don't want you to make an investment that won't work." She chuckled in response.
"When will you learn? All of my investments work. Oh, I brought something Greek this time. I don't remember how my chef called it. Moussaka, I think." She said and put the basket on the table. He approached and took a tupper from inside. He opened it, grabbed one of the plastic forks and started eating.
"I am working on a cure, you know. So that you'll get back."
"There's no cure, Eleanor. Nothing can fix this."
"You never know. I am not giving up on you, like you never gave up on your dreams until now. This situation has cursed you and I am not letting you throw everything away just because you can't touch anything or anyone. I will find a way to get this thing away from you or I'll make a special section, entirely made of rubber, just for you."
"That's sweet, but yeah, try focusing your powers on something else, something more important." She threw a side-glare at him.
"Nothing is more important than you."
