"This is your apartment?"

I grab a dirty T-shirt off the couch and stuff it behind a cushion. "Yes."

"Someone actually lives here?"

"Of course someone actually lives here. I live here! What's wrong with my apartment?" I scan my apartment, trying to see it through Jarrod's eyes. It's a small studio. A double bed is pushed up against the wall with a poster of Einstein as its headboard. The kitchenette is clean and tidy, but the table and two chairs next to it are ...