People lie all the time. Especially when you don’t expect them to.
Marcus enters the lobby and makes his way up to the third floor, wrinkling his nose at an unappealing smell in the stairwell. As he unlocks his front door, he notices that his doorknob is loose, but decides against calling the super again. Marcus doesn’t want to hear any more snarky comments about how this place ain’t the Ritz, son, but it’s nicer than a lot of places you’ll find around here.Marcus had struggled not to roll his eyes at that.
Marcus’ stomach is still feeling queasy, so he decides on oatmeal for dinner. As he stirs oats and almond milk together in a pan, he grabs his bottle of anxiety meds from the windowsill, shaking the bottle for a moment before putting it back down without opening it. This is his last refill, and he’s in between psychiatrists right now. He’s been halving his dosage to make it last, but he’s only got a few pills left.