Since I was a kid, I’d always wanted to live in New York. The lights, the glamour and fashion, the endless throngs of people and things to do. It’s not perfect, but it is great fun. I don’t live there anymore, but I spent three fun years in my mid-20′s getting to know it.
I shared 600 or so square feet with my best friend in a clean but far from glamorous 5th floor walkup. In any other city in America, this place would be the size of a studio, but in New York it had been somehow mangled into 2 bedrooms, living room, and kitchen.
I’d been moved in for 3 days when my phone rang at work and I answered, puzzled why the super would call me mid-day.
“There’s been a fire,” he started out, “and your unit is definitely affected.” Continue reading