The apartment is the color of forgetting.
Not because it was chosen to be-he's never chosen anything about it. The walls simply exist in a state of beige that is so neutral it has no opinion about itself. Cream, perhaps, if you wanted to be generous about naming it. A color that landlords paint in properties they know will turn over, that won't offend anyone, that won't be remembered.
He's waiting for her.
He just doesn't know her name.