The studio apartment looked like something out of a clearance sale. It had an eerie presence about it that reminded one of early nineties horror movies. It was too small for a living room yet too large for a walk-in closet, just the right size of claustrophobic. The air was heavy with the stench of weed and urine that had overstayed its welcome. Clothes were strewn about the room making a trail leading to a wide open, almost empty closet. A small travel bag, passport and several letters were the only things in some kind of pattern across the bed. The entire apartment looked like what one would expect the inside of a vacuum cleaner to look like - dirty, crowded, misfit. In a corner was a lump as  equally messy as everything in the room. That’s where she sat, dramatically as if she had recently been posing for Vogue. Her hair was still damp, the result of which was a shudder every now and then. She stared at everything and nothing as she relived the events of the previous night. She had done this a hundred times so it wasn’t supposed to faze her. However, this time perhaps she wanted to stay......