I started writing these to try and address the ennui I've felt over the past year, drawing on my memories of living in anonymous apartment complexes throughout my life in equally anonymous suburban america.
Just got around to finishing these and damn. Strikes deep at aspects of suburban apartment life that I don't think I've ever really seen acknowledged or portrayed. It's a lifestyle I've only experienced secondhand, but the descriptions of Meadowbrook gave me a visceral Sense of Place, drawing me right back to the apartment complexes of my hometown. There are exaggerations here that make it engaging fiction, but like any good existential horror, they are rooted in uncomfortable truths.
