Three days later.
***
He can breathe better. He surrendered himself to the cushion of his massage chair. His massage chair served as his throne, a king of his little kingdom. His constituents; were scrap piles, Aiveez seedlings, and a caged Zelkian.
The room was slightly bigger than before. He was in his new apartment.
Nothing fancy, just a one-bedroom, one bathroom, and the kitchen was converted into his fabrication area, where his fabrication table now situates. The living room held his massage chair and the piles of pending scraps for selling.
Arranged in his chaotic kind of way.
His sight just played along with the illumination of his room and the corners of his ceiling. It was a little bit more comfortable than the studio-type cabin he once had.
However, regardless of the size of his apartment, and three floors up from the ground, the stench of Steelpoint District still heaved outside.
