And Jahan. I had grown so comfortable around him. We had absolutely nothing in common, and yet we had everything in common.

I didn’t know what to say to Soraya. Whatever, she finally texted. I still wish you had come out to me. I do musical theater. I’ve been around gay people forever. I’m honestly kind of offended you didn’t think you could tell me.

I threw myself down on the couch, sighing deeply.

• • •

A few minutes later, Jahan stumbled out of his room. I watched him hobble past me in his red checkered boxers and into the kitchen.

“You’re up awfully early,” he said.

“So are you,” I said.

“Trust me, I am nowhere near awake.” Jahan came out of the kitchen with a glass of water. He leaned against a wall that was covered in Polaroids and took a long sip, glancing over at me on the couch. “Everything okay?”

No. My sister found out I’m gay. I haven’t talked to my parents in days. I don’t know what to do next.

I looked at Jahan. He could barely keep his eyes open.

“Yeah, everything is fine,” I said.

Jahan nodded sleepily. “Keys are on the shelf by the door,” he said. He went back into his room and closed the door.

• • •

I willed myself to leave the apartment. It was the closest thing I had to a routine these past couple of mornings while Jahan slept in until the afternoon. Much like with capitalism and heteronormativity, Jahan believed mornings to be an oppressive construct and made it his personal mission to disregard them.

It was a particularly peaceful morning in Trastevere. A lot of shops hadn’t even opened yet. Even though some of the streets were starting to look familiar to me, I was still in awe of it all: the moss-covered walls, the clothes hanging out the windows, the narrow alleys that opened into wide piazzas.

A morning walk can seriously be like therapy.

I found a restaurant on Isola Tiberina, a small island on the Tiber River, and sat down at a table outside. The other tables around me were empty. I had noticed that most Italians didn’t sit down to have coffee, but instead had their espresso shots standing up at the counter. They were so cool about it. They would just roll in and order un caffè, maybe make some small talk with the barista, and then knock back the shot of espresso and drop a euro and say “ciao” before hopping back on their mopeds.

After the waitress took my order, I reached into my backpack to check my money. It was all twenties and fifties. I had some single euro coins in my pocket. All in all, I had about eight hundred euros left from what I’d taken out at the airport, carefully split among my backpack, duffel, and various pockets.

Still, I was starting to worry about money. I took out my laptop and opened the Wikipedia page for this cryptocurrency start-up that had asked me to make a couple of edits to their Controversies section. It was a little sketchy, but they were offering me a thousand bucks (in real money) for very little work.