Flat

?> look

You stand in the hallway of your flat, your shoes
leaving curiously-shaped marks on the dark-stained
wooden floorboards. The walls, in a contrasting
scheme of matte plum and gloss dark purple, are
less alarming than seems reasonable. A single
hanging bulb fights to impose its influence on the
light streaming through open doors to the sides.
To the south are tastefully built-in display shelves.
On the middle shelf, spot-lit from above, is a plastic
teaspoon. It matches the walls.

?> exits

North: A leaded-glass door leads to the stairwell.
South: an open doorway reveals the kitchen, all
shining white units and careful underlighting. A bin
bag lurks on the floor, part-filled. On the counter,
a scattering of official-looking paperwork, and a
range of cleaning products. On the hob is a small
and precariously-balanced espresso pot.
South-West: The dark-stained floorboards continue
into the lounge, ending at a large angled bay window
overlooking the road outside. Happily, the plum/purple
walls are not continued, the lounge walls being a
more restrained oatmeal colour. There is a picture rail,
and a large old fireplace, suitable for leaning on while
quaffing port. On the mantlepiece ticks a clock with two
faces, one labelled 'Jonathan time,' the other 'real time.'
The only other object in the lounge is a director's chair
with 'Mr Hitchcock' stencilled on the back.
North-West: A bedroom or study, carpeted in pale
beige and with the same oatmeal walls as the lounge.
A surprisingly small window looks out onto the street.
The only object within is a bright yellow bicycle pump,
placed upright dead-centre in the room. Perhaps it's
an art installation?
North-East: A long, very narrow bathroom, with pine
that's tasteful in the same way the purple hall isn't
alarming. A huge mirror backs the sink, a part-wall
backing the shower and bath and almost blocking the
snickelway to the toilet. A variety of bleaches, soaps
and cleaning products are placed carefully.
South-East: the master bedroom, carpeted like the
other (or is that a study?). Oddly-shaped, thanks to
a defunct chimney breast, a cupboard that, on
inspection, contains a combi boiler with initially
indecipherable controls, and a bite taken out to
accommodate the kitchen. The bedroom is empty.

?> inventory

You have:
- A set of keys.
- A receipt for a gigantic fridge-freezer,
to be delivered on Tuesday.
- A Post-It note on which is scribbled:
  - A British Telecom account number.
  - A job number for ADSL activation from Pipex.
  - Meter readings from when you moved in.
  - A phone number for a shadowy government
quango who may be able to tell you who to give
the meter readings to.