Most people would probably feel scammed in her place. Actually, even Margaret had a feeling something was wrong with her living arrangements. Then again, she didn't especially care. Sure, the guy who'd rented it out to her had told her all sort of stuff about how it was still not quite there, but would eventually become a very cosy urban loft, and how it was very fashionable lately for young women like her to live in what previously was a shop turned into a nice flat. In the meantime, it still very much looked like a shop, to the point she had to go in through what used to be the shop's front door.
The previous owner had, of course, made a few changes to the overall layout, but the facts remained; her bedroom suspiciously looked like a stockroom, her kitchen was very much the one that had been used to make whatever kind of food they'd sold there (which meant it was well furnished, and suited her perfectly well), and her living room was exposed for everyone to see through the shop window- mess included. Though she'd recently managed to motivate herself into cleaning it, so it wasn't too bad this time.
In the meantime, it was very cheap, right on the street level so she didn't have to climb stairs, she didn't really care much about the decoration, and she had the kind of kitchen she needed to do the one thing she liked in life, so it suited her perfectly.
Right now wasn't the right time to get lost in thoughts about her peculiar living conditions though. No, right now was around the right time to start concentrating a little on the pan that held delicious pancakes in the making. The pan was, of course, the exact right temperature to keep the pancakes a nice golden colour, without them being undercooked. She was looking forward to eating them in a few minutes; sure, her fridge was already full of delicious cooked goods, but then she had a bad tendency to just want to make more anyway. She rarely ate her own leftovers- why do that when she could have some fun making more, new exciting things to taste?
However that concentration wasn't meant to last it seemed, as she felt like something was off. She never bothered removing the chime the shop owner had installed however long ago before she moved in. And she was fairly sure she'd just heard it; that was odd though, she didn't expect any visit. Did she forget to close the door again? Was it windy outside or something, for the door to open all by itself? Or was that some odd magical stuff- those things had a bad tendency to happen all over the islands. Or it was her imagination.
In any cases- she couldn't be bothered to go check, not when she had much more interesting pancakes to tend to.
@Foxy
The previous owner had, of course, made a few changes to the overall layout, but the facts remained; her bedroom suspiciously looked like a stockroom, her kitchen was very much the one that had been used to make whatever kind of food they'd sold there (which meant it was well furnished, and suited her perfectly well), and her living room was exposed for everyone to see through the shop window- mess included. Though she'd recently managed to motivate herself into cleaning it, so it wasn't too bad this time.
In the meantime, it was very cheap, right on the street level so she didn't have to climb stairs, she didn't really care much about the decoration, and she had the kind of kitchen she needed to do the one thing she liked in life, so it suited her perfectly.
Right now wasn't the right time to get lost in thoughts about her peculiar living conditions though. No, right now was around the right time to start concentrating a little on the pan that held delicious pancakes in the making. The pan was, of course, the exact right temperature to keep the pancakes a nice golden colour, without them being undercooked. She was looking forward to eating them in a few minutes; sure, her fridge was already full of delicious cooked goods, but then she had a bad tendency to just want to make more anyway. She rarely ate her own leftovers- why do that when she could have some fun making more, new exciting things to taste?
However that concentration wasn't meant to last it seemed, as she felt like something was off. She never bothered removing the chime the shop owner had installed however long ago before she moved in. And she was fairly sure she'd just heard it; that was odd though, she didn't expect any visit. Did she forget to close the door again? Was it windy outside or something, for the door to open all by itself? Or was that some odd magical stuff- those things had a bad tendency to happen all over the islands. Or it was her imagination.
In any cases- she couldn't be bothered to go check, not when she had much more interesting pancakes to tend to.
@Foxy