Paul Grigson led the way down the porch steps, across the front yard, to the driveway at the side of the house.  Under the deck, there was a door, with a window placed on either side.
     "Now, these are the only two windows, and I'm afraid that they don't really offer much light," he said, reaching into his right pants pocket to pull out a bunch of keys. 
     He inserted a key into the deadbolt lock, then turned the knob and opened the door.  There was a light switch immediately to the right of the door, which he flipped, illuminating a room with dark brown tile flooring and creamy white walls.  It was a large, open room, with a kitchen area taking up the left side of the room and two doors on the far wall.
     Mr. Grigson moved toward the kitchen area, which had a bar table that separated it from the main room.  The other side of the bar table held three cupboards beneath a countertop which had two separate outlets, one at each end.  Above each cupboard was a drawer.  The counters were a creamy beige.  The main kitchen wall contained the refrigerator and a good-sized sink; more counterspace, above which were three more cupboards, and below, to the left of the sink, two more cupboards plus a stack of four drawers.  The stove was opposite the refrigerator, leaving a narrow walkway between the two appliaces.
     Lizzie made a show of opening up each cupboard and drawer, the refrigerator door and freezer door above it, and the stove.
     "It's a self-cleaning oven," Mr. Grigson said. 
     "And the bathroom?" Lizzie asked, moving out of the kitchen and toward the two doors on the far wall. 
     "It's the door on the left," he answered, following her.  "The other door is the closet."
     He stopped outside of the bathroom, and she entered on her own, glancing around a room with a shower/tub, toilet and sink all crammed close, and then a small laundry room with washer and dryer beneath a utility shelf.  The fuse box was on the wall beside the dryer.
     Once again, the walls were a creamy white.  Ugh.
     "Would I be allowed to paint the rooms other colors?" she asked, leaving the bathroom and moving to examine the closet.  There wasn't much to it, of course, just a small closet about three feet wide.  "And putting up hooks?"
     "As long as you aren't planning on painting the walls any dark colors, that's fine.  And hooks are OK."
     "And pets?" she asked.
     "There would be a $400 pet deposit, but yes, pets are fine."
     "And it's first and last, plus a damage deposit of....?"
     "$500."
     "OK."  She added the figures in her head.  $2100.  "Is there a year lease, or month to month?"
     "A six month lease, with three week notice that you'd be moving.  And I would give you a three week vacate notice as well.  You'd get all of your deposit back, minus a $100 cleaning and general repairs fee.  If you have pets, and they don't do any damage, you get all of that deposit back."
     "Do I have my own mailbox?" 
     "Yes."
     "I'll take it."

He smiled warmly at her.  "Lizzy?"

She nodded.  "Mr. Grigson?"

He held out his hand, expecting her to shake it, which she did so with nervousness.  She was always nervous around men, unless they were over 55.  Well, at least men that she found attractive.  He did have the odd eyes, but they were a warm black--how could black eyes be warm, wasn't black a cold color?  And his hair was short, also black.  His hands were a bit rough.  She wondered if he worked in construction or something like that, where he was always using his hands at manual labor.  He wasn't skinny, nor stocky, so she supposed the phrase "medium build" would apply. 

"You didn't have any trouble finding the house, did you?" he asked. 

She shook her head.  Wow, she was being a great conversationalist!  But then, she was only here as a prospective renter, not to become his new best friend.

"Well, let me show you the apartment."  He closed the door behind him and stepped out onto the small porch, proceeding her down the stairs, and she followed.

Lizzy Davies stood on the sidewalk looking up at the large white house with its surrounding deck porch.  She could hear dogs barking from inside, several, by the sound of it, not big dogs.  Yes, there in the front window, a beagle head appeared, then another, and another, and another.  Gracious!  FOUR dogs?  She glanced again at the scrap of paper in her hand to confirm the address:  4218 Grant Avenue.  Yes, this was the correct house.  Hm....living in the basement, hearing all those dogs barking....However, the rent was very affordable, only $600.  And it was close to a good bus line, and also walking distance to several stores. 

Drawing a deep breath, she climbed the stairs to the front door, and tentatively rapped on the door.  The door opened almost immediately, answered by a man not much taller than her, with eyes that she immediately noticed were slightly large in his face.