I found an apartment. It wasn’t anything special—a living room, kitchen, bedroom, and bath—on the second floor of a two-story building, with access from a walkway across the front. But the rent was reasonable and the neighborhood was primarily single-family homes, with restaurants, fast food places, and a small shopping center nearby. And it was furnished. A definite plus for now. The manager said I could replace the furniture with my own if I wanted. He also said he’d have to check my references—for Wayne Blackstone—and would let me know the next day if I could have the place. I knew I’d pass inspection, so to speak. After all, I’d created the references myself. Not that hard to do when you had my computer skills to create what was needed to back up my claims. God knows I’d done the same
