With Kyle’s help, we get the truck unloaded in record time. Everything I own sits in boxes on the living room floor of my new apartment, which looked large and roomy before we started filling it up. I’d like to say it looks packed to the gills now, but that’s simply not true. Unfortunately I haven’t accumulated enough to fill up the one room I stayed in at Rob’s, let alone an entire place of my own. The futon looks lost all by itself in the bedroom, the bookcases are dwarfed by the empty walls surrounding them, and the TV cowers in one corner as if it’s trying to hide like a frightened animal. The stand for it is buried under the boxes; it’ll take me all weekend to dig it out.
When the truck is empty, Rob leans against the kitchen bar and wipes sweat from his brow, pushing his hair up int
