I drive down the street and pull into the small parking lot between the two garden apartment buildings. Most of the spaces have both a number and a letter painted on the tarmac, which corresponds to the apartments in the buildings. I find the one marked 23G, like it says on the front of my folder, and pull into the spot. For a long moment I just sit behind the wheel of my car, taking it all in—I’m going to be living here from now on, I tell myself. I’ll be coming here after work, not Rob’s place. I’ll have friends over for dinner or to watch movies, maybe throw a Halloween party sometime, maybe…
A sporty little red car zooms into the lot at breakneck speed and skids to a stop next to mine, half in two spots. I glance over at the driver, a young woman my own age who still has that fresh ou
