The day that I walked into my new apartment, I clutched the keys in my hand, creating small red ridges on my fingers, as if releasing them might make my new home disappear. My Volvo station wagon was still packed to the gills in the driveway, but I had no desire to start hauling my meager possessions up to the second floor - yet. First, I had to go inside and look around. It had only been a few days earlier that I had found it, briefly spending minutes inside before rushing back to the real estate agent’s office to sign the lease. It hadn’t mattered what it looked like at the time. It was affordable and vacant - my top two criteria. Now, as I opened the door at the top of the stairs and walked into the empty kitchen, I felt a strange sensation inside my chest. It was relief.
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