Lydia scanned the dank, damp and flea ridden kitchen that she shared with her two housemates; Ron and Emma. The fleas had come in after Emma had started to feed the stray tomcat, who they called Ginge with left overs and gone off milk. The place stunk of old food and rotting vegetables and eggs in the overflowing bin. Lydia threw herself onto one of the broken wooden chairs that sat with their equally horrible table that they used for house meals. Lydia wished to God, prayed to God, that one day she would be freed from the hell of house sharing but with cost of living crisis and the fact that she had no savings and no family that could support her she knew that the chances of every getting out of this vile hole were slim to none. Lydia scoured the room to see if there was any chance that there might be a relatively clean bowl to eat some breakfast cereal out of then she realised there would not be any milk and anyway she had suddenly lost her appetite. Lydia pulled her old green cardigan close around her and closed her eyes, perhaps if I just imagine hard enough a miracle will save me, she thought. She imagined a clean white modern kitchen with shiny marble tops, an American two door fridge that smelled fresh and clean and had beautiful fresh food inside. She imagined the sun shining through french doors and her walking out into the beautiful warm sunlight.
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