I see. I’m not sure how legal it is to advertise the building having an elevator if it’s purely decorative, but I’m going to make the most of it. All those years spent in my family’s small home gym have prepared me for this life. I haul the suitcases, knowing they’re about fifty pounds each, since I had to weigh them at the airport. Frankie makes no offer to assist, which is okay. By the third flight up I’m remembering that my new apartment is on the sixth floor. Sweat is building on my lower back, and I’m positive I can skip leg day during all future workouts. I’m out of breath at the top, but—actually, no buts. This is all part of the initiation of the city. Nothing makes me feel like a real New Yorker than being able to say that I live in a sixth-floor walk-up on the Upper East Side.

There’s no ceremony when I’m led to apartment 6G. No welcome to the building, no congratulations on my first home away from home. Frankie simply opens the door, and I follow him inside, leaving my suitcases in the narrow entry hallway. The bathroom is to my immediate left, and while I know I’m going to spend hours in there every week doing my extensive face routines, I’m interested in exploring the space where I’ll be doing most of my living. The wooden floor creaks under my boots as I step into the studio. My delivered boxes are up against the left wall where I’m planning on putting my bed. There are two windows facing the street and a third above the kitchen sink that offers the view into another neighbor’s apartment. That’s not a problem. I’ll buy curtains this week.

However, the biggest problem is how small this apartment is. Scarlett and I are using the money our parents reserved for college to pursue our dreams—modeling and photography—and we’re hoping to stretch it as long as possible, hence the studio.

“The photos online made it seem bigger,” I say.

“I took those pictures,” Frankie says.

“They were really pretty. Are you sure you uploaded the right photos for this listing? We were expecting more space.”

Frankie stares. “You had the option to visit before leasing.”

“I didn’t live here yet. I only just arrived.”

“That’s not my problem. You and your sister shared a womb. You’ll figure it out.”

Here’s hoping this studio apartment expands to fit our needs like our mother’s uterus.