Monica shuffled out of her bedroom. Eight in the morning still felt like midnight to her. So it actually took her a moment to register Chandler sitting at the breakfast table, eating cereal and reading a newspaper.

She frowned and tried to concentrate. "Aren't you late?"

"A little bit, but not much." Chandler didn't lift his eyes from the paper. "You know, it says here the sun rose today at six twenty-seven. I think they're lying. Want to check it out tomorrow?"

"Shut up. That's four hours after I get off work." She rubbed her eyes and went over to pour herself some of the coffee Chandler had made.

Now he looked up at her. "And what has you arising so bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this morning?"

"I'm interviewing roommates." She sat down heavily in a chair opposite Chandler at the table.

"Already? You just posted flyers, what yesterday?"

"Yeah. And I got five phone calls before I left for work yesterday. Two of them sounded all right, and I'm interviewing them today. If I like one of them, I'll take the flyers down tonight."

"Wow. You are a go-getter." Chandler grinned and stood up. "All right, the limo broke down again today so I have to go catch the subway. Let me know how the interviews went."

"Will do." Monica managed to smile back at him despite the weariness. Chandler picked up his jacket and left.

Monica sipped her coffee, still mentally debating the wisdom of letting him come in as he pleased. Her common sense was in a fierce mental debate with her instincts, which for some reason told her that he was trustworthy.

Monica pushed that all aside for now and went through the morning ritual of eating breakfast and washing up. After dressing, she was sufficiently alert enough that the buzzing of the intercom wasn't a deafening annoyance. She pushed the door open button without bothering to verify who it was, and opened the front door. A minute later a woman walked up the stairs and peered down the hallway. "Monica?"

"Yup. Come in." Monica stepped aside as the woman entered, looking around the apartment. She seemed suitably impressed, which pleased Monica.

"Wow. This is so beautiful. Did you decorate it yourself?"

"It's... it's a work in progress." Still, Monica felt a warm glow at the praise. "I'm sorry, just to make certain, you're...?"

"Meghan." The woman held out her hand and gave Monica a firm, brief handshake. "I'm so pleased you were able to let me see it so quickly, I really need a good place to stay in Manhattan and everything is too expensive or too dirty."

"Well, this place is neither. This is the kitchen, everything is old but it works. Bathroom is over here - and yeah, it's pretty small, sorry to say."

Meghan eyed it and shrugged. "Looks functional, that's all I need. Nice soap you have."

Monica grinned. "Thanks. Here's the bedroom." She led Meghan across the living room. "Not huge, but it's got a walk-in closet."

"It's great." Meghan beamed at Monica. "What rules do you have for living here?"

"Rules?" Monica actually hadn't considered that. "No rules, really, except try to keep things neat and pay the rent and your share of the utilities on time."

"Oh, I can do both of those things easy." Meghan had taken out a notebook and was making notes. "Do you have a boyfriend?"

Monica furrowed her eyebrows a bit. "Not... not right at the moment. But, I mean, if you want to bring boyfriends over, that, that's fine with me."

Meghan nodded, still writing. "Have you lived here long?"

"Two years, but only a couple of months on my own. Before it was my grandmother's."

"Ah. And, um, may I ask what you do?"

"I'm an assistant chef."

"Oh?" Meghan looked mildly surprised. "Oh, you'll have to fix me something special sometime." She jotted another note down, then folded up the notepad and put it back in her purse. "This place really is very lovely, I'd very much like to stay here."

"Good. Just leave the name and number of your employer, please, plus a number I can contact you at. I have more interviews today, but I'll let you know in the next day or two."

Meghan provided those things, then smiled. "I hope you say yes. We could be the best of friends, don't you think?"

Monica smiled back. Perhaps they could. She was getting a good vibration from this woman; she seemed to think a lot like Monica did. Monica led Meghan to the doorway. "We'll have to see. Take care."

She opened the door. Meghan was already on the way out and nearly ran into another woman standing at the door. Meghan screeched to a halt as the other woman jumped slightly, her hands covering her mouth. "Oh! Oh, I'm sorry, oh!"

Meghan frowned. "Do you always lurk in doorways trying to scare people?"

"Oh no, not always, not anymore. I, I'm sorry!" The other woman stepped back.

Meghan gave a disgusted shake of her head and walked on out the apartment. Monica frowned after her, then looked up at the new woman, who was several inches taller than she was. "May I help you?"

The woman looked back at her with wide eyes. "I, I'm Phoebe, we, you said I should come over today, to look at this apartment."

Monica's frown deepened. "That wasn't supposed to be for an hour yet."

"Oh? Oh, well, I didn't want to be late, and I, I wanted to, y'know, feel out the place before I met you."

"Hmm. How'd you get inside?"

"Oh, well, someone must have left the door open."

Monica fought off an urge to close the door right then and there. "Well, you're here now. Come in."

"Thank you." Phoebe stepped inside, her eyes darting around the room. "Oh wow, it's humongous."

Monica blinked in surprise; the apartment wasn't small, but it wasn't particularly large either. "So, anyway, there's the kitchen."

Phoebe didn't even glance at it, instead walking over to the window and looking outside. "Ooh, look, there's a naked man in the apartment over there."

"Uh, yeah, sorry. I should call the police on him."

"Oh, please don't, he's just doing what makes him happy." Phoebe wandered over to the bathroom, poked her head inside quickly, then looked at the two doors on the other side of the living room. "Do I get to pick?"

"Er, no, my bedroom's the left one." Monica walked over to the other door. "So, your share would be four-fifty plus half of the utilities. This would be your room." She opened it.

Phoebe stepped inside and looked around. Then she did something very odd; she closed her eyes, clasped her hands together at her chest, and spun around twice. Monica actually leaned back, uncertain what that meant and what would happen next. Tentatively, Monica asked, "Well, what do you think?"

Phoebe opened her eyes and smiled. A wide smile that seemed to light up the whole room. "This feels so good. Much better than I expected."

"Uh, that's nice to hear. So you'd be interested in living here?"

"I'd love to, Monica, thanks!" Phoebe beamed happily.

"Wait, I haven't made a decision yet. I've been interviewing other people. If you could please, leave me the name and number of your employer and a number I can contact you at."

"Oh, okay." Phoebe opened her rather large purse and began digging through it. Eventually she extracted a paystub and handed it to Monica. "Deborah's my boss, and you can contact me too, if I'm not there they'll take a message."

Monica frowned down at the paystub. "You should keep this for your records."

"Oh no, you can have it." Phoebe grinned and walked out of the bedroom past Monica.

Monica followed Phoebe to the front door. Phoebe looked through the peephole and made a little sound of "Oooh" before opening the door and turning back towards Monica. "Okay! And if you ever want aromatherapy just come on down. I'm good at it." Phoebe reached up, picked at the air over Monica's head as if pulling dust motes out of the air. "You have such a lovely aura." She grinned at Monica before whirling and walking quickly out the door.

Slowly, Monica closed the door, feeling somewhat dazed. You had to hand it to New York; you never knew what sort of people it would throw your way. That certainly qualified as one of the oddest encounters she'd had yet.

Well, at least it was over quickly. And she now had two numbers to call to verify Meghan's and Phoebe's employers. Monica picked up the phone and began dialing.

Chandler took a sip of the wine he had brought to dinner, looking at Monica the whole while. "So, which one did you like better - your long-lost twin or the space cadet?"

Monica shrugged with one shoulder. "Still thinking it over."

"You should definitely go with Meghan," Kip said firmly. "The other one sounds like trouble. She might end up stealing from you or losing her job or just going completely insane. When the chips are down, you should go with solid dependability."

Chandler nodded reluctantly. "I'd have to say, I'd hate to have this other woman use your severed head as a birthday cake or something."

"Ew!" Monica wrinkled her nose. "Stop, that's disgusting."

"But it was a darned good movie." Chandler tried a grin but seemed to sense he was losing this particular jocular battle. "Anyway, I'm surprised you're still thinking about it. Seems to me you'd choose Meghan in a heartbeat."

"Well, maybe." Monica toyed with the pasta still on her plate. "But... Phoebe's boss said something strange. I called her for a reference and got a good one. She also said, 'Please consider letting her live with you. She deserves to have good things happen to her.'"

"Well, that would set off all sorts of warning bells in my head," Kip said. "I mean, anyone who went out of their way to say that is telling you that this woman has been involved in unsavory situations. Therefore she's probably mentally unstable. Stay away from her, that's what I say."

Monica sighed and stood up. This usually signaled the end of dinner. Kip and Chandler also rose and helped her clear and clean the dishes. Monica wrapped up the leftovers, wishing Ross had been able to make it. For one of the few times in her life she would have welcomed his advice.

Kip waved goodbye and walked out the door back towards his apartment. Chandler, however, lingered a moment, looking somewhat uncomfortable. "Look, let me say this one thing, okay?"

Monica nodded and beckoned him on.

"Having... having someone that's similar to you as a roommate is not always the best thing." Chandler gestured at the front door and his apartment beyond. "Kip's an okay sort of guy, but it's not like we have fun and games all the time - in fact, there are some days I come home and find myself disappointed that he's there. Not that I hate the guy - I know you like him and all - but he just doesn't do anything for me."

Monica raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, stop that!" Chandler took on a look of mock severity. "He wouldn't do anything for me even if I was... even if I liked... my father's the gay one, not me!"

"Pity. You and Kip would make a fine couple."

"Oh shut up. Now, I gotta go back and let Kip know the wedding is off." Chandler stormed away.

Chuckling, Monica went over to the phone. Teasing Chandler was almost too easy; the man was a bundle of insecurities. Not like his roommate. Kip knew exactly how he felt about every subject and was extremely comfortable with who he was and what he was doing. Hopefully he'd work up the nerve to ask her out soon. She'd left enough hints already; with luck Monica wouldn't have to resort to Chandler's suggestion of the neon sign with the words 'Ask Her Out' and an arrow pointing at her head.

With a bit of an effort, Monica forced herself to focus on the two telephone numbers written on the pad by the phone. Impulsively she grabbed the phone and dialed one of the numbers. As it rang, she felt better. This had to be the right decision. She'd start by delivering the good news, then work up to softening the bad news.

After a few rings, the phone was picked up. "Hi, this is Meghan and Robin. Leave a message after the you-know-what."

Monica waited. "Hello, this is Monica Geller calling Meghan regarding the apartment. Please call me back as soon as is convenient for you. Thanks."

She hung up, gathered herself, and picked the phone up again. This time the phone was answered after one ring. "Scents of Paradise."

"May I speak with Phoebe Buffay please?"

"Oh, sure, one minute." The phone was set down and Monica heard someone getting out of a chair. She waited a moment and heard the sound of rapidly running feet and the phone being grabbed from whatever surface it had been laying on.

"Hello? This is me, Phoebe I mean." She sounded breathless.

Monica swallowed, kept her voice somber. "This is Monica calling. I thought I should let you know about the apartment."

"Oh? Oh." Phoebe's voice was heavy with fear. "Uh, and?"

"I, I want you to know-" Monica's voice caught. She fought the restriction on her throat, coughed artificially, and got the words out. "I want you to know that I've decided to offer you the apartment."

"Oh? Yay!" Phoebe's voice was pure excitement. "When, when can I move in?"

Monica stood there feeling numb. Had those words really come out of her mouth? They must have, or she wouldn't be hearing the sounds of a woman jumping up and down at the other end of the phone. "Uh, well, I'll need first and last month's rent, nine hundred dollars. As soon as you can provide that, you can move in. Tomorrow, if you like."

"Nine hundred dollars!" Phoebe stopped jumping. "To move in?"

"Well, yeah." Monica found relief warring with disappointment in her head. If Phoebe couldn't meet this requirement, Monica could turn her down guilt-free. "That's pretty standard."

"Nine hundred dollars! I, I can't-"

Phoebe's name was called in the background. She evidently turned her head away from the phone but didn't cover the mouthpiece; Monica could hear the conversation clearly.

"Tell her you'll take it."

"But nine hundred dollars, I don't have it, I can't-"

"I'll lend it to you. Call it an advance on your salary. I'll deduct fifty dollars every two weeks for the next four and a half months. How's that sound?"

"Oh? Oh, you're the best, Deborah. Oh yay. Oh!" Phoebe's voice was suddenly much louder. "Okay! I'll move in, uh, tomorrow, thank you, thank you Monica!"

"You're welcome." Monica found a huge smile was splitting her face, and decided that was a good sign. "I have to leave for work at four, so any time before then."

"Okay! Okay, bye roomie!" Phoebe hung up.

Monica slowly replaced the receiver, feeling very odd. That was perhaps the most impulsive thing she had ever done. But it didn't feel wrong. In fact, it felt pretty good. It only remained to see if it turned out to be a horrible mistake.

Brushing aside that thought, Monica went to the closet where she kept her cleaning supplies, preparing the apartment for its new occupant.

(to be continued)