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Mystic Coconut Soda
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The morning sun mercilessly wakes you up through curtainless windows. Though groggy still, you take a quick tour of the place in the bright, early light. There’s nothing particularly outstanding about the place. Two bedrooms on the main floor with a bathroom, plenty of closet space about, the entry goes directly into the living room and both are connected to the kitchen with only a waist-high divider in between. All the walls are just painted landlord white, and the carpets seem to change by decade depending on which room or closet you’re looking in. The kitchen as well seems to be confused about which time it’s in with new linoleum flooring, cracking counter tops, a fridge with an icemaker, and a stove that you’re pretty sure needs to be hand cranked to work. It’s plenty spacious though, with a thin door leading to the carport. A look at the basement tells you that it’s been in a perpetual state of “in-progress”. Most of the walls are skeletal 2x4s with the occasional exception of bare insulation. All the lights are naked bulbs with pull strings. Half of the floor is poorly placed, and often loose, linoleum tiles and the area by the boiler seems to be covered with scrap, patterned carpet from the 60s. Other than utilities and laundry appliances, the only other thing to note is that there does appear to be a pantry area full of dusty shelves.
Time to get to work and start moving in boxes! In short order you break into a sweat hauling in boxes and disassembled furniture. You try to delivery any marked things to the appropriate room but a mess of cardboard builds up around the house regardless.
You’re most of the way through clearing the truck when you hear the doorbell and a voice at the door.
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