I wake up earlier than usual, fresh-faced and ready to take on the day. I did not spend the entire night tossing and turning, kept up by anxious dreams in which the movers arrived late, the previous tenants in my new place decided they actually didn’t want to move out, and the box filled with all of my precious family heirlooms was struck by lightning as I carried it out of my apartment.
My cats get into their carriers without any fuss. In fact, they’re ecstatic to be in there and wink at me to let me know, after years of wondering, that they actually have human-like intelligence and love me. Very much.
My landlord is sad I’m leaving and compliments me on the alterations I made to the apartment during my two-year stay. “Striped peel-and-stick wallpaper really brightens up the kitchen,” he beams. He gives me back my security deposit in full and refunds me two months’ rent for being “an absolute delight.” We stay in touch and become lifelong friends. I eventually convince him that landlording is unethical, and he gives it up to start a sanctuary for retired carriage horses.
