Little essay for The Billfold on all the places I have lived:
I lived here with my cat, Tigger, who had been a present for my fifth birthday. The apartment was lovely, a few blocks from my dad’s house, and it had enough room for all the random crap I’d collected at thrift stores. Two of my best friends helped me move in, and I remember sitting on the floor eating pizza, admiring the number of boxes full of books stacked almost to the ceiling along the living room. I think this was the first place away from my parents that actually felt like home. I made out with my secret boyfriend on the floor, drank way too much, and took a lot of selfies in the parking lot. I read dozens of books and watched hundreds of movies. It felt like a real home for awhile. Then the secret boyfriend broke my heart, Tigger died, and they sold the place and turned it into condos, evicting all of the renting residents.