Apartment 69

I'm told that everyone has their weaknesses and moments that they're not proud of. For years I had always assumed that mine was chocolate, but after the events of this story, I'm not so sure anymore.

I should probably start with a few introductions. My name isn't Maria, but we'll go with that for now. I'm about average height for a Hispanic woman making me shorter than most the white girls I grew up with, with slightly broader hips than I'd like, and smaller breasts than I'd wish for. Though I'm not stacked by any means, I'm not flat, and catch men staring at them frequently enough. My skin is kind of caramel colored, and I'm somewhat proud of how silky smooth it is. I kept my black hair long, about down to my shoulder blades.

Despite what my parents thought, I had been sexually active, just not terribly experienced. At this point of my life I was in between boyfriends, and the last boyfriend was the first one I'd had sex with. The sex wasn't as magical as the other girls in my dorm had lead me to believe it would be; and during that part of my life, finding times we could be together was harder than I would have liked.

But here I was now, 23 years old and living on my own for the first time in an apartment free of Roommates! ...and boyfriends. It was ironic that I had nobody to share the new found freedom with, but I was sure it would come with time. I may not have been a bombshell, but I wasn't unappealing. Besides, at first it was quite freeing. Being on my own. No brothers, sisters, roommates. No Catholic mother telling me to pray to God for forgiveness because I smiled at a boy.

It was just me for once; but the excitement of this started to wear out quickly. It was stunning how quickly I started to notice how much work being on my own could be. Between cooking, shopping, laundry, my part time job, and school I found myself with less free time than I had hoped to.

The trouble had begun when my air-conditioner started to act up. For reasons I was in no way qualified to diagnose, the bewitched machine refused to raise the temperature. It blasted ever colder and colder air, and I'm not a big fan of the cold. I was getting tired of fighting with it, and it was even getting to the point where I couldn't get it to turn off. Having been on my own for the first time in my life, I wasn't quite sure what to do.

I knew there was a building maintenance man, a creepy older man named Jake with a thick accent I couldn't place, but I wasn't sure I was brave enough to go there. Then again, it was his job to fix things, and I needed to do something about the machine. Quickly to, as it was getting to be fall already and winter was just around the corner.