The Difference Between Getting and Needing

e i g h t e e n

i hope you're ready 'cause
you're gonna sleep alone t o n i g h t . . .

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Collin lived in a row home in a fairly small, contemporary neighborhood on the northwestern side of Philly, which hugged the banks of the city's most significant river, the Schuylkill. It paralleled the infamous expressway of the same name that was unequivocally congested with cars every second of every day. It was the worst road in the Delaware Valley tri-state area.

If you climbed to Collin's roof – which was possible if you shimmied the window open from the bedroom on the third floor, jumped onto the adjacent neighbor's roof that reached just below the window, and did a deathly scale up the side of the building that I'd always hated – you could see the river.

It was described as "prime real estate with a waterfront view" on the apartment listing. The realtor had the audacity to add an exclamation point to the statement, too. Collin, Jax, and Seb found out that was an exaggeration upon moving in, but since the three of them were natural-born daredevils, they were thrilled when they discovered the hike up to the roof with an actual view of the river and the highway.

His block was exclusively all very similar adjoined, narrow terraced homes with two or three floors, with the exception of the takeout restaurant on the corner that only served Korean-style fried chicken. Amid the differing shades of stucco, types of brick, and variously colored window trim on all of the homes sat Collin's place, sandwiched between two beige houses. His gray stone exterior, three-story building with a crimson red front door and decorative black trim stuck out like a sore thumb.

If you didn't know the area, it was quite easy to get lost. Every townhouse having shared walls in the tight-knit community was like a mind game. They blended together as you drove by until it was indistinguishable on what property started where. All the streets were opposing one-way's, parking was permitted on only one side during specifically inconvenient hours, and the roads were steep like in San Francisco. But that was just city living.

After having three different Uber drivers cancel my ride because I had a dog with me, I finally found a fellow animal-lover that allowed me in her car. I caught a glimpse of the puzzled look on her face when she picked me up, but she didn't ask any intrusive questions like where was I going with a purse that could barely hold half of the things I had in my arms, why was I carrying a mangy pair of slippers, and why did I look like death warmed over?

In short, an unexpected breakup.

It had stopped raining for the first time all day. Collin was standing at the bottom of the stoop outside his house when I got there, his hands on his hips and his head angled toward the sky. I could see the wrinkles in his plaid shirt through the line of parked cars on his side of the street.

When my cab came to a hesitant stop about two houses away, he jogged right over.

"Have a good night," my driver said politely.

Her copper eyes met mine in the rear-view mirror and I smiled. "Thanks, you too."

If it weren't for her, I would probably still be waiting for someone to pick me up. She was about the only good thing that happened to me today.

Collin swung open my door for me and slipped the handle of Ziggy's leash off of my wrist, escorting him out of the car first. The air smelled of mouthwatering Korean fried chicken almost immediately. I collected everything of mine that was in the backseat, clambered my way out, and let Collin shut the door behind me.

Ziggy found a fire hydrant on the edge of the sidewalk to be fascinating along the short walk to Collin's place, so as we stopped to let him sniff every square inch of it, Collin turned to me.