flashback scene

I walked through the dark hallway, up the carpeted steps to my apartment, fumbling in my pocket for my keys. I had to stay at work late, so no red glow from the dying sun filtered in from the low window as it usually did when I got home. Instead, the harsh orange light of a lamppost outside the window cast shadows on the walls, making the chipped paint more noticeable than usual. It was interesting; like the dried out mud you see in photographs or something. I thought fleetingly that I could photograph it and get rich; then I could quit my job, and go back to living like I did in my college days. Laughing at myself, I pulled my keys out of my pocket, and stepped up to the door of my apartment. It was painted black, with the number 206 slapped on it in peeling gold numbers. I stuck the key in the lock and turned it. Inside, the place was dark. I made my way down the long hallway to the kitchen, and I set my briefcase on the table. It wobbled as I did, and a granny smith rolled off onto the floor. I really need some new furniture. I picked up the apple, and rubbed it off on my shirt before taking a bite. Wincing at its tartness, I turned around, and on my way back to the living room, grabbed a beer out of the fridge. I walked back down the long hallway to the living room, and sat down on the only easy chair in the room: a green, battered up old La-Z-Boy with coffee stains on the arms and white stuffing spilling like snow out of a rip at the bottom. It hadn’t looked quite this bad that day Mikie found it in the alley and rescued it.
“Hey Jack-o, get your ass over here and help me bring this up,” Mikie yelled at me through the doorway.
“Help you bring what up?” I spat back at him in an exasperated tone. I had heard a lot of thundering coming from the hallway, so I had a pretty good idea he had something big and heavy. “Can’t you find someone else to help you?” I said, and turned back to watch Milton and Hanz, who were crouched on the ground at the start of the hallway playing tricks on the cat. Milton leaned forward, flicked his wrist with a practiced motion, and sent a dime rolling, rolling, on its edge on down the hallway towards the kitchen. Sheeba (the tabby) mistook it for something tasty and took off after it at full speed, head down, brown tail flinging out behind like a child running with a rope in hand. As we all sat there and watched, an air of tense excitement among us, Sheeba caught up with the dime, tensed her hind legs, and pounced on the speck of spinning silver, landing right on top of it. Elated, she swished her tail out behind her in triumph, before she looked up and noticed the wood paneling of the hallway’s end only four feet in front of her. She stopped dead in her tracks, or tried to at least, but her soft paws slipped on the polished wood floor, and she went skidding, hackles up, right into the wall with a loud Meeeoooowww! Milton and Hanz burst into fits of laughter, lying out flat on their backs and slapping the ground with their fists.
“You really shouldn’t tease her like that,” I said, even though I had been watching and laughing right along with them. “You know she does the same thing every time.”
“Yeah, she does, doesn’t she?” Said Hanz. “You know, you’d think she’d learn.” He sat up, and his mass of frizzy red curls sprung out around him and engulfed his face. Milton just smirked at me from his spot on the floor. There were tears in his eyes, he’d been laughing so hard.
“Now that you’re done torturing the cat, could one of you please get off your lazy ass, and help me?” Mikie was standing in the doorway. I’d almost forgotten about him, and I flashed him an apologetic smile.
“Sorry about that, Mike” I said, and followed him out the door. Out in the hall, jammed halfway up the narrow staircase, was an old green La-Z-Boy recliner tilted upside down, looking too big to fit. “Where’d you find this piece of junk?” I said as I climbed over the chair and started shoving at it from the back. “Grab hold of the front, would you?” I grunted between shoves.
“You might be laughing now, but I’ll be the one with a reclining view of the tube tonight.” Mikie grabbed the front of the chair, and together we managed to bring it inside, where we set it in the place of honor in front of the black and white TV. Mikie sat down with an exaggerated sigh and sunk into the chair’s moldy green softness. “This calls for a cold one,” he said, grinning.
“Maybe, but you can get it,” piped up Milton from the floor, indicating the exceptionally long hallway that the cat had just run down. “I’m not walking that far just for you, bud.”
Mikie rolled his eyes at him. “You can take the bike,” he said, indicating the blue Schwinn leaning against the radiator on his right.
“Whatever.” Milton grudgingly got to his feet and shuffled over to the bike. We watched as he mounted it and started off across the living room to the hallway and on to the kitchen, his sandaled feet pumping lazily on the pedals. There were some clanking noises from the kitchen, and a few minutes later he was back with four beers held precariously against the handlebars. There were loud cheers all around.
“Here’s to Mikie and a glorious new find,” he said, passing out the beers. I took one and twisted it open.
“Any excuse for a cold one is good enough for me,” I said.
As if from far away, I heard a dull pounding noise, and I looked up to find the room dark and empty. It took me a minute to realize there was someone knocking at the door. I got up reluctantly and went to answer it, still holding the beer in my hand.