ook the elevator to the the fourth floor. His house was the whole of the floor. He opened the door before I could knock twice, lik

me

mething expensive running quietly in the background. The living room opened up in wide, careful lines, glass, steel, and warm wood tones. Everything looked deliberate.

ainless steel fridge, a forgotten toy car under the console table. Light spilling down from a skylight. In the corn

xplain," I s

ded. "

k a b

o see where I live. My apartment's small. The pipes groan. The ceiling leaks when it rains. I fix things with ta

faintly,

g broke, I've been broke most of my life. But because it's the kind of place that makes peop

what your opinion of me was, considering where

that didn't feel empty, just heavy with everything

better. But I've never met someone who m

rough the blur in my eye

felt like a truth. "Because you make things feel r

You don't know eve

ll me,"

't have but spent anyway. I told him about losing jobs, scraping rent, pretending it was all fine because people liked you better w

doesn't. You could live in a shoebox and st

trembling. "You re

"I want t

t the kind of breaking that hurts,

softly. "L

di

need to be protected from. Y

in me. The part that had been tight with s

a how hard it is

me show yo

uch was warm, steady, and when he kissed me, it wasn't like before. It wasn't