The Apartment
In from the landing, slamming the door, the man lets out a grunt and peels off his boots. The aroma permeates throughout the room. He sprinkles crumbs onto the counter for his pet roaches - wouldn't want the lovely things to go hungry. He pauses for a moment to scratch an itch below his waistline, and his squinting gaze settles on the kitchen towel. You know, it's just getting ripe enough for tea. The man grabs the towel off the rack and inhales the bouquet before dunking it into a cup of tap water and placing the concoction into the microwave. He settles in to cut his toenails on the table while he waits. The microwave dings, and the man pirouettes over to pull the cup out. The first sip is potent and delicious. "There's nothing better than living in your own filth," he thinks.