It was above a family-owned bakery, with two bedrooms, a narrow kitchen, and an old oak tree outside the living room window.

It did not have a skylight or a staircase.

It had one parking spot and a landlord who had already agreed that Tommy could keep his bicycle in a locked storage room.

“Can I put my city by the window?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Can Dad visit my city?”

“If you want him to see it, we’ll figure out a way.”

He considered this.