On Sunday, May 31st, I finally moved into my home.
Aside from a security monitor propped on top of a plastic shipping barrel, I left the studio at the top of PanStar completely empty. I’d found a group of guys hanging out in front of a corner liquor store and paid them to haul everything out of there and leave it on the sidewalk.
“You sure you don’t want any of this?” one of the men asked me, eyeing my VCR.
“None of it,” I told him. “You can have it all.”
The only things I took with me to Lincoln Road was a suitcase full of clothing and my books. Everything else would be brand new.
That night, lying atop of my new king-sized bed, in my freshly painted master bedroom, I allowed myself to return to the one thing that was still bothering me- no one was watching out for PanStar.
