The day after Thanksgiving, I learned I’d have to move out of my beloved century-old, two-bedroom apartment in Kansas City.
My building had been taken over by a management company in another state.
Unfortunately, this wasn’t the beginning of a Hallmark movie in which the protagonist unites with her neighbors to successfully push back against a corporate takeover (all while finding love along the way).
Instead, I found myself panicking about my next move while grieving the comfortable life I’d been so proud to have built over the seven years I’d rented that space.
A few weeks later, my parents suggested that my cat and I move back into my...
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