It was mid August when he said goodbye to his friends and traveled north from the Gulf Coast to the Great Lakes ready for a different life. He had a small savings and signed a lease for a flat off of Armitage, three floors up from the ground, northwest of the city. The space was unremarkable. Surrounded by red brick factories. All four winds could travel through it and there was a slender view of the city skyline and decent light. He signed a lease on the trunk of the man's car. The week after he moved in a former tenant shouted up to the open window and reclaimed an oak wood desk he had left. Someone crashed a car at 2am into a telephone pole in the alley and set it on fire. This was no accident. He went back to bed while his cat watched the flames from the windowsill. A kind woman named Monetta shared a back porch with him and they got to talking. She was spiked on vodka, Stoli. He discovered her terrific laughter when she learned of his favorite drink. Seagram's whiskey with milk on ice. One lazy Sunday they walked down to Western Ave and had lunch at Lazo's Tacos while sharing art and literature. #katyamills
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