The stairs sucked, but the rent was low, and the landlord didn’t ask questions.
We took it.
We enrolled in community college, split a used laptop, and took any job that would pay us in cash or direct deposit.
He did remote IT support and tutoring; I worked at a coffee shop and stocked shelves at night.
It was still the first place that felt like ours.
We furnished the place with whatever we could find on the curb or at thrift stores.
We owned three plates, one good pan, and a couch that tried to stab you with springs.
It was still the first place that felt like ours.
Somewhere in that grind, our friendship shifted.
There was no dramatic first kiss in the rain, no big confession.
I realized I always felt calmer once I heard his wheels in the hallway.
