INADEQUATE

2

The mirror reflects more than just your physical form; it reveals the complex tapestry of my past, woven with memories, experiences, and emotions. As I stand there, my eyes trace over the scars and discolorations, each one holding a story, a moment in time that has shaped who I am today. The unique details of my body serve as reminders of my heritage, especially those striking eyes—an inheritance from my father.

The light greyish-blue irises, speckled with dots of red, are a testament to my individuality, a feature that once made me an outcast in childhood. Back then, these eyes sparked fear and alienation among my peers, turning me into a target for bullying. But as time passed, what was once seen as strange or unsettling transformed into a mark of beauty, aligning with the changing standards of college life. The same eyes that once isolated me now draw admiration, a testament to the evolving perceptions of beauty and the power of self-acceptance.

There's a subtle tension in the quiet of my new apartment, almost like the silence itself has a presence. It seems that I've traded the familiar chaos of my previous place—those once irritating but oddly comforting noises—for this new, quieter life. The ticking clock, a sound I might have ignored in the past, now fills the space, echoing in the stillness.

The adjustment hasn't been easy. While the old apartment was cramped and came with its own set of challenges, it had a certain charm, a rhythm that I'd grown accustomed to. Even the disturbances—late-night stomping, blaring music—became a part of my routine, a kind of background music to my life. Now, with more space and a quieter environment, there's an emptiness I'm still figuring out how to fill.

The contrast between the two places highlights the complexities of change. I've moved to something objectively better—a larger space, less noise—but it comes with its own set of challenges, particularly the loneliness and unfamiliarity that the silence brings. It's a new chapter, but it seems I'm still trying to find my footing in it.

This apartment is larger and quieter with the feeling of home wrapped around it. The neighbours are elderly and tend to mind their own business and the landlord is a sweet middle-aged man. I met him a couple of months ago by accident, it was during a hit and run case. The landlord was one of the witnesses and helped massively.

As we spoke, I mentioned my living situation which led to the landlord to mention his occupation and how he has a perfect place available for me. Immediately I booked a viewing of the property and fell in love, the craftsmanship of the kitchen and the luxurious view of New York from the large windows just took my heart. The apartment is not only very spacious but also calming to come back to, especially in this line of work

"Don't you love staring into space," Danny's sarcastic voice, followed by a belly laugh, comes crashing into the peace, but this earns him a slap on the arm. "So, you still haven't told me what made you laugh?" he asks, rubbing the spot where he was hit.
Rolling my eyes, I grab two glasses from the cupboard, passing one to him and grabbing a bottle of Château Lafite Rothschild. It was a gift I received from my parents on graduation day, very expensive but worth it. Pouring it in both glasses, I take a seat on the leather sofa opposite Danny who looks to be intrigued by the wine. Every move I make is mimicked with a horrid sound. I hate leather furniture, it's my own fault for buying it. "The killer. They said something," As I thought about it again, a small smile grew on my lips, "Try not to be inadequate."

"Meaning?" The confusion clearly still brewing in Danny's head, his face scrunched up and brow raised.

He really is clueless. "I did that online test that the captain sent us. I'm guessing you didn't get the email?" He shakes his head, forcing to continue, "It's to do with my character towards my colleagues and workplace environment. Mine apparently was inadequate. I found it quite funny."