“No, but I like to think that I’m still kind of like a kid myself,” I said, “so even though I haven’t designed a kid’s room, exactly, I try to approach everything with a child’s heart.” I exhaled and smiled, but I felt a slight sinking feeling in my gut. I had bullshitted my way through that answer, and I could tell it hadn’t done much to impress them.

“Great,” Grant said with a quick nod. “Let’s get into it, then. I want to hear more about this mural idea of yours.”

An hour later, we were hugging our goodbyes. Aside from my ridiculous “child’s heart” speech, the meeting had gone as well as I could have hoped.

“I’ll send over my rate and contract, and we can go from there,” I said to them before we headed off in different directions. I didn’t rush, taking my time to savor every little thing I saw along the way to the subway: The parents swinging a small kid between them, arm in arm. The busboy from the restaurant on the corner, lugging in a giant crate of lemons through the front door. The window on the second floor of the apartment above me sliding open. New York felt possible tonight.

My phone buzzed in my bag. An email from my landlord, thanking me for sending my most recent rent payment in on time. I scanned her words until my eyes stopped at the last sentence. “We have to raise your rent a hundred dollars starting next month.”

And in an instant, everything felt impossible again.

Pizza. This was the only appropriate solution to the end of this day. Plus, I could afford it, for now at least. I turned around on Mott Street and made my way back down to Spring, swinging a right toward my favorite spot in the city, Famous Ben’s.

Twenty minutes later, I was face-to-face with two perfect slices of vodka sauce pizza—covered with a dusting of parmesan and red pepper flakes—and a frothing cup of root beer. Heaven. I placed my phone next to my paper plates, so that I could scroll and eat at the same time, and dug in. A text from Cleo popped up just as I opened Instagram. Any word from Lola?

Nope, I wrote back. Must be a hot date. I looked at the time on my phone. It had been almost ninety minutes since her date started. Lola hardly went that long without touching her phone, much less texting.

Should we be worried? Cleo asked.

I think she’s a few blocks from where I am. I’ll walk by on my way to the subway.