Love is Such a Fickle Thing.

Ashley Davis dropped a heavy cardboard box onto the wooden floors of his new apartment. He sighed, wiping beads of sweat from his brow as he straightened out his sore back. The nineteen-year-old stepped back and admired the small living space. The walls were a deep red, the floors a light wood. A large window stretched across his back wall giving him a beautiful view of Seattle. The furniture wasn’t much; a mattress on the floor of the bedroom, his dresser and lamp from back home. A black leather armless couch and matching chair- gifts from a friend before moving- and a average sized flat screen TV. It wasn't a whole lot, but it was his. And it was decently priced, at only 750 a month. Since the apartment had two bedrooms, he decided to turn the one closest to the living room his photography studio. He grinned, squeeing to himself in excitement as he ran off to the bedroom-studio. Boxes stacked on boxes of equipment filled the corners of the room. The walls were a clean white and one window was on the back wall, average sized but in the right place so that the sunlight filled the whole room. It was perfect.

Ashley dug his cell from his pocket, tapped the screen with his thumb and opened a blank message.
Come over around four and we'll start putting up flyers:)
He scrolled down the list of his contacts, and tapped the name of his friend Amanda and hit send. He and Amanda were kind of working together, since she had moved up to Seattle not long ago and also had a love for photography. But she was more editing and talking to clients,which was fine with Ashley. Tucking his phone away, he decided to start in on the boxes and set up the equipment, before anything else in the apartment.