Page 38 of Returned Mail

Me: And I just spent eight months counting down the days until I could escape a lease.

That shut her up for almost thirty seconds.

Lyann: Fair.

I put my phone in my bag. Picked the cheaper pasta sauce. Made it halfway to the next aisle.

My phone buzzed.

Lyann: Still think you should apply.

I rolled my eyes. Then reopened the listing. I told myself I was only checking the price. Then the neighborhood. Then the application requirements. Then whether pets were allowed, even though I didn't have one.

By the time I reached the cereal aisle, I had read the entire listing twice.

I applied that night.

Not because I thought I'd get it. I remembered what happened last time I got my hopes up. The application fee, the waiting, the polite rejection. This time, I refused to imagine myself there. I didn't plan furniture. Didn't think about the window. Didn't picture coffee in the kitchen or wine on the couch.

I uploaded the documents. Employment verification. References. Bank statements. Everything they requested. Then I closed my laptop.

A few days later, the email arrived while I was standing in the cereal aisle. Apparently grocery stores are where my housing decisions happen now. I almost didn't open it. I stood there between granola and a family-sized box of something covered in marshmallows, staring at the subject line.

Application Status Update: Approved.

I stared.

Read it again.

Then I read it a third time.

My first thought wasn't excitement. It was: There has to be a mistake. I called Lyann. She answered on the second ring.

“What happened?”

“I got it.”

Silence…

Then screaming. Actual screaming. So loud that I had to pull the phone away from my ear. “Oh, my God. Oh my God, Mia. You got the loft?”

“I think so.”

“What do you mean, you think so?”

“I mean, the email says approved, but⁠—”

“No. No 'but.' You got it.”

I looked down at the email again. Two years. The number still scared me. Maybe it always would. “I don't know if I can sign another long lease. What if I hate it?”

“Then you hate it.”

“What if something happens?”

“Something will happen.”

“That's not helpful.”