The apartment wasn't much bigger than my bedroom, but what struck me wasn't the size. It was the emptiness; not the kind that came from laziness or indifference, but the kind that said: don't get attached. The man who lived here hadn't put down roots. He hadn't even tried. The walls were so bare, I couldn't find a single bent nail or sun-faded outline where a picture might've hung. A two-top table huddled against the wall in one corner, smaller than the desk I'd used in high school. The kitchenette was stripped to the studs and equipped with nothing but a coffee maker, a microwave, and a mini
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