My Flatemate

March 30, 2012
Flats are hard to find in London. Believe me. I’ve been looking ever since I graduated Uni. So when I saw this advertisement in the paper I was thrilled:

NEED FLATMATE!


Gorgeous two bedrooms. Reasonably priced. Right in the heart of London. Furnished. Just need someone who is willing to split the rent.

I am walking down the corridor with my friend Alex. He had agreed to look at the flat with me, just in case my future flatmate was a pedophile.

As we neared the door number 232A we could hear pop music increasing in volume. I stared at Alex as we approached the door. He shrugged; I knocked.

The music stopped. “Who is it?” Rang an American female voice.

“It’s me, Jimmy. I called earlier about—”

The door whipped open. A girl roughly my age with brown hair stood in front of us. She was wearing business attire and had a black pen behind her ear.

“Hey! Welcome to my humble abode.” Alex and I just stared. “Come in. Come in.”

I have to admit, the place was nice. Plain white walls covered with photographs taped in collages. As I neared some of the photos they were mostly landscapes. The Great Wall of China, Eiffel Tower, mountains, gorgeous meadows, Times Square, the list goes on.

“My name’s Sammi, but you already know that. Who’s your friend?”

“Alex,” my friend replied.

Sammi smiled. She had beautiful teeth. Is that odd? Is it normal to call someone’s teeth nice-looking?

“This is the living room, the room where we live. Complete with a TV, xbox, PS3, Nintendo 64, and whatnot. Oh. And a fluffy couch.” She hopped onto her sofa. She lay there sprawled for a few seconds. Then quickly got back to her feet. “This is the kitchen. Fridge. Counter. Stove. Any questions?”

I raised my hand.

“Yes? You with the striped sweater.”

“Will there be a journey to the lui anytime soon?”

She laughed then pointed to a light blue door. “That one. Go ahead. Ignore the excessive girlieness.”

I headed towards the toilet. The flat was nice. Would it be strange for me to be living with an American women whom I don’t know?


When I came out, Alex was sitting at the kitchen counter swiveling in a chair. Sammi was fixing him a drink.

“Here you are,” She said handing Alex some sort of alcoholic beverage.

“Beer please,” I said sitting down next to Alex.

Sammi handed me a Bud then mentioned how it was on the House. After our drinks, Sammi showed me what would be my bedroom.

It was pretty decently sized. Spacious, too. It was equipped with a king-sized bed. All the sheets on it were white. The armoire was a dark brown wood. Honestly, with a few things from home, this place would be gorgeous.

I could definitely live with this.

“Thanks for this. I’ll give you a call soon then?” I asked.

“Yeah. One more thing though. I need to ask you a few questions first.” She gestured to an armchair as she said this. I suddenly felt nervous.

Alex had had to leave after his drink to catch up with a friend. It was just me, Sammi and this extremely comfortable armchair.

Sammi took out a clipboard from a drawer in the coffee table. Yes, a clipboard.

“Do you have a criminal record?” She asked as she took the pen from behind her ear.

“…No”

“Good. I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t going to room with a rapist.” She laughed then glanced at the clock on the wall above the telly. “Crap. I have to go. I guess that’s all we have time for today on Interviews with Sammi. See you next week on a special episode involving a guy named Jimmy moving into apartment 232A.”

This girl was incredible. A little strange, I admit, but where else am I going to find a semi-normal flatmate and a gorgeous flat? I wiped the palms of my hands on my jeans and got up.

“See you soon then.”

She nodded as she put on some black tall shoes made her look eight centimeters taller than she really was. She grabbed her handbag off a table by the door and shooed me out of the flat. “I will see you very soon my friend.” She said as her locked the door. Then she dashed down the stairs.





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