Scuttlebugs

The dust motes swam lazily in the warm sunshine as Aimee danced. Her arms spread wide, she twirled around three more times just for the deliciousness of the space, the warmth and knowing this was, finally, her very own place. Soon a truck would pull up with her things and the new apartment wouldn’t be empty any more. She’d have her own couch, a bed and even a small kitchen table and chairs - all to herself. No more roommates. No shared bathroom. No labeled food in the fridge. No compromising on TV channels. The furniture was coming from a thrift store, but that didn’t matter, because now it was hers. Aimee was sure recycling furniture made her a more virtuous person.

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