Everyl

A short story

Everyl opened the door to his studio flat and gave me a smile, beckoning me eagerly to enter. I crossed the threshold into the tiny hallway which opened up into his living space.

The kitchen was through an archway on my left. The L-shaped living room doubled up as his bedroom.

This was Everyl’s place. Neat and compact.

There was a mattress tucked into the narrower part of the room and two folding garden chairs propped up against the full height window. There were two hand sanitiser dispensers and a fire extinguisher installed on the walls.

Nothing else.

Everyl had lived here for over nine months. He had taken two months to paint the walls despite working on them daily.

Meticulous.

He had spent several months trying to seal the gaps between the carpet and the skirting boards.

Obsessive.

He complained of bugs each time I visited. Often with a mildly frantic expression on his face, he would explain why he didn’t want to procure any furniture until he had dealt with the little invaders.

I wondered whether these bugs were real or part of his psychological fabrications. They were real to him, either way.