Akiva slid the key into the front door and twisted it to unlock it. He held it there to savor the moment. This was the first time he was unlocking his own place, his very own home that he owned. He had been watching the market for years, and though it was a little farther from the city than he wanted to be, he had gotten a good deal on a modest three-story complete with a front and back yard and a tree with a swing on it. It was going to need some fixing up, but he was proud to be able to call it his own. He pushed the door open and entered into his new life.

The movers had already come and gone. Paid only to bring his stuff passed the threshold and no further the front room was cluttered with his furniture; a bed, a couch, a coffee table, a dining table from his parents, along with smaller items like chairs and side tables. The front hall was lined with boxes which he had only labelled sparsely, confident that he would be able to figure them out as he went along. He looked at it all, it didn’t seem like he owned a whole lot. One of the benefits of moving from a one bedroom apartment to a three story house was that it was easy to organize your stuff. The downside being he now had a lot of empty space to fill.

But that would come later and for now he set about organizing the boxes of stuff he did have into the various rooms. His cellphone vibrated in his pocket. He looked at the caller display which said ‘Rents. Probably his mother who, along with his father and sister, were planning on coming over the next day to help organize and unpack; have a bit of a house-warming party. He declined the call telling himself that he would call her back later, once he got a little more settled and cleared away some of the boxes.

He opened one of the boxes and looked inside. A box of stuff for the kitchen, it had a bunch of utensils, flippers, scrapers, and tongs. That would be easy enough to move. He picked it up, walked into the kitchen and placed it down on the counter. He opened a few drawers and cupboards, getting a feel for the space that he was going to have. He had some dishes and pots in another box somewhere. Was it best to keep the food low and the pots high? Or vice versa? He wasn’t used to having so many options. He decided to just focus on getting the boxes into the different rooms and unpack later.

A bedroom was a haven, a place that was supposed to be relaxing and inviting. This house had three of them. That was more rooms than he’d ever had in a house. His parents’ house had three bedrooms but he had been in the basement which was not exactly a ‘bedroom’ in the strict sense, lacking certain key features like a door. Carrying a box of clothes for his closet he started moving back and forth between the two bedrooms on the top floor trying to decide which he would make the master. They were both roughly the same size, but he settled on the one at the front of the house because it offered a great view of his new yard and the street beyond. He dropped the box of clothes in the closet, leaving them packed up for now. They were wrinkled from being in a box for the past three days and his mom would probably insist on washing everything tomorrow. Give him a fresh clean start.

He opened up a box and a waft of sweet scents entered his nostrils. This was his box of toiletries, already opened bottles of shampoo and body soap, a loofah, shaving cream and razor. His mom told him to get rid of it and buy new once he moved, more of that fresh-start attitude. That seemed wasteful and he couldn’t bring himself to throw out perfectly good stuff. So he sealed it all in oversized plastic bags and threw them into a box. There was only the one bathroom upstairs that had a shower in it, which was where he was going to put this. There was another bathroom on the main floor but it only had the basic necessities of a toilet and sink, which was known as a half bathroom, a term he’d never heard until he started looking for a place. He would have to buy some basics for that room as well.  All that would come later.

He came across one box with the word MEMORIES written on it in black marker. He opened it up and began rooting around inside. This was the killer of all moving operations and what he’d been trying to avoid by dropping stuff off and not unpacking yet. Pulling open each box and analyzing each item for the stories it held could get you lost and soon the whole day is gone and nothing done. In this box he found a baseball glove he got when he were eight, a high school yearbook that his first girlfriend covered in hearts, a photo album of his first family trip to the east coast, among other trinkets. He closed it quickly and brought the box up to the third floor where there was a ladder to the attic. He unfolded the steps and carried it up. The attic was dim and he could taste the dust floating in the air. There was something eerie about attics, they all carried some sort of mystery about them. This one had a peaked ceiling and only a single window at one end to let in light, though it was obscured by braches from the large tree outside making the light dim with a tinge of green. The darkness and shadows played tricks on the mind and he was sure that he could see figures there waiting for him. His heart skipped as he reached up and pulled the cord on the lightbulb, chasing away the darkness. Of course it was empty. Nothing to be afraid of. He set the box down and went back downstairs.

He moved a few more boxes to the bathroom, the bedroom, and the kitchen clearing a path through the main hallway. Next he wanted to move some of the furniture. Most of the big stuff would have to wait until tomorrow when his sister came along; there was no way he was going to move a dresser by himself. Smaller things like chairs and side tables wouldn’t be so bad. He also considered that it was going to feel weird sleeping on a bare mattress in the front room that night. Dragging at least that up to the bedroom might not be so difficult. There were also miscellaneous large items that he needed to find a place for, like his snowboard. Winter was still several months away and even then he wasn’t sure if he would find the time to use it. The attic was always an option, but there was also the huge basement.

Most basements conjure up images of dank cellars with concrete floors, rickety shelving with old paint cans on it, and tiny windows covered in grime and cobwebs. As Akiva stood at the top of the stairs leading down into his basement and flicked on the light, he realized his was nothing of the sort. There was a brand new washer and dryer along one wall with an extended countertop for any folding needs, and cupboards below for storage. It was completely finished with tile flooring and a separate room for more storage that he was considering turning into a darkroom; that or maybe a screening room with big comfy chairs and a projector for movie nights. Then again maybe the attic would be better suited to that once he cleaned it up.

He set the snowboard in one corner in the second room and was considering bringing the stuff he’d stored in the attic down when he noticed a light coming out from under one of the walls. It was a faint glow just along the edge where the wall met the floor. There was no way there could be a third room down here, surely. Curious, and as this was his house now and he was free to do what he wanted, he felt underneath and pulled out the corner of the wall panel. It unhinged easily and he was able to follow the break all the way up until the whole panel popped out. Hinged on one side he swung it like a door. At best he expected to find a dark crawl space on the other side for extra storage if he ever got the courage to clean out all the bugs that called it home; at worst it was some horror dungeon full of chains and stains that had been covered up and was the reason he had gotten such a good deal. He swung the door open and was struck by a blinding white brightness.

When his eyes adjusted he could see, from the doorway, an impossibly large office. There were white gleaming tiles on the floor stretching out as far as he could see until the room faded into a dull white glow in the distance. The ceiling stretched up at least twelve feet, passed what should have been his kitchen. All around the office men and women dressed in black suits walked with determination between white stacks. There was a lone desk in front of him with a man sitting behind it looking at him quizzically. Along the front of the desk it read: Adjustment Bureau in block letters.

Akiva slowly swung the door and latched it closed. That could wait until tomorrow. He really needed to move that mattress.