Stephanie Young

The night a fire started between the ceiling of our apartment and the upstairs neighbor’s floor, I walked with my person to dinner. We dropped seventy dollars, but after a difficult week working in education and the arts nonprofit world, going out felt recuperative. Worth it. Dropping seventy dollars on dinner wasn’t something we did often, but it was possible, the sort of thing a person can do when you’ve lived in the same house for fifteen years while rents rise around you like water.