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It was Thursday afternoon, after a full week of sunshine and warm weather, the rain decided to roll in. 
                          
It wasn't excessive but it meant that by the time I got out of the cab after work and ran for the building I live in, my shirt was see through and sopping. 
                          
The old woman that lived on the floor below me, stepped onto the elevator when it opened and gave me a not so subtle once over. 
                          
She was tall, thin and her face had almost no movement left in it. 
                          
She carried around a small white dog and reminded me whenever she had the chance that her husband died several years ago, leaving her a nice inheritance. 
                          
When I stepped off the elevator and rounded the corner, Abby was sitting on the floor outside of my apartment. 
                          
She had a duffle bag beside her, scrolling through her phone but peered up when I approached.
                          
"Hello."
                          
"Hey," I said. "What's up? I wasn't expecting you?"
                          
"Surprise," she said as I picked up her bag - heavier than it looked and rattling with the sound of products - and unlocked the door. "I have a gig tomorrow. Chanel! I can't wait. Thought you might be able to put me up?"
                          
"They weren't going to set you up in some flash joint like last time?"
                          
"They were," she admitted, closing the door behind us. "But I thought I could have a sleepover with my brother. Catch up? I can go if you have plans though."
                          
"Na," I set her bag down beside the sofa. "I'm glad you're here. Of course you can sleep over." 
                          
My apartment was big enough for two. It wasn't huge but it had a spare bedroom - Mom's idea for this exact reason - the kitchen and living area were one large open plan. 
                          
A breakfast bar separated the space, the carpet turning into lino where the countertop began. A short narrow corridor off the living area led to the two bedrooms, a utilities closet and the bathroom. 
                          
The living room had a ranch slider which stepped out onto a small patio. 
                          
It had a fantastic view of the neighborhood below. Watching the traffic was like watching little hot wheels cars. It never stopped, it never slowed. 
                          
I'd even witnessed a few car accidents here and there. Not to mention film crews and celebrities shooting for movies or shows. 
                          
I was on the seventh floor. So high. But not so far that I couldn't see a decent amount of detail. 
                          
The atmosphere was bright. White walls, light timber fixtures and window frames. I had a few plants around the place and of course the bookshelf was packed. 
                          
My computer desk and laptop sat in the corner and beside it was a stand alone shelf which held my record collection and of course the record player itself. 
                          
"I'm going to shower and change," I told Abby while she went straight for the kitchen in search of the herbal tea she left here last time she stopped in. "Requests for dinner?"
                          
"What did you plan on having?" She asked. 
                          
"I have some shredded chicken and fried rice. Not enough for two though. We can order Chinese or there's a pizza parlor about two minutes from here."