“Come on Sabrina, I feel bad!” Steve said as he paced back and forth across the white marble floors of his once-dingy shithole of an apartment, in the middle of a heated conversation.
Despite not physically moving from his cheap and comically tiny studio apartment downtown, it was now easily 1000x bigger on the inside than it was the outside; an entire mansion and estate, even the outdoor garden, swimming pool, and hedge maze, all behind the unsuspecting door of room 420 of the Ronald H. Jeremy building on 69th street.
“Steve, despite literally knowing everything, I cannot understand you.” Sabrina said, sitting with her legs crossed while floating a few feet above the ground. “I do all this because I love you, you don’t need to pay me back.”
“I can’t explain it either, I don’t know if it’s guilt or some weird repressed childhood thing, but my gut feeling says that this is the right decision.”