When the pandemic started, I was in kindergarten. My family lived in an apartment in Brooklyn, New York City. It was a very nice apartment; it was modern and homey. I had lived there my whole early life up until when we moved, and I was kind of surprised when my parents said we were going to move.

I asked them why, and they explained that it was for technical reasons. Like, we needed better schooling (though the school we went to was already pretty high on the ranks), and also, my sister and I were getting older, and we needed a bigger space than we did have already.

And so, we moved. My mom and dad sold the apartment to a young couple, and because we couldn't find a house in time, we moved to Rego Park, Queens, New York City.

    At first I remembered that I loved the apartment. It was possibly bigger than the last one, but I realized, after a few weeks, it was NOT better.