Sam assembled a little dining table and pretended not to notice when we discovered he’d attached one leg backward.

The first night, I sat on the balcony eating soup from a mug.

I could hear traffic in the distance and a couple arguing gently about whether a dog should be allowed on the couch.

Nobody was smoking.

Nobody expected me to cook or clean.

Nobody demanded to inspect my spending.

I cried again, this time because the quiet felt so unfamiliar.

The next morning, I bought a small pot of basil for the windowsill.