If I Manage To Move Into An Apartment With My Friend - Tumblr Posts

There’s something about the yearning for platonic domesticity that hits differently after two months of touch starvation and loneliness. I am wanting for so much that I don’t quite understand how to articulate. I type until my fingers on the keyboard sound like the downpour’s quickstep, then delete it all. And again. And again. 

Maybe there is just too much longing to write in a single piece. 

Today I spent hours looking for apartments, draped across a backdrop of rain and thunder on the pavement. It seems more than a little far-fetched, some fantasy borne of desire for a post-pandemic world, but somehow it also cradles the familiarity of coming home.

I can see it already, you know. Your plants on that countertop, my candles in that window. Us, together, sitting on that couch, crocheting like the old ladies we are at heart. A tea kettle on the stove begins to whistle. The smell of wet pavement from the street twines with that of the bread I’ve just pulled from the oven. I made buns again and you laugh that we don’t have enough mouths. 

My favorite part of searching, though, is the lack of departure dates. The endless listings operate only in “at least”s, for six months, twelve months. Indefinite. The potential in this relative permanence, to return to the people you love every night without fearing the end… 

Well, just the idea feels a little like coming home, doesn’t it?