Boston, and the two years I do not talk about

Dug out a box in the back room looking for the warranty on the boiler and found a Charlie Card and a set of keys to a flat in Somerville. 2016 to 2018. Danny's first real contract was up there and I went, obviously, because he had been following me around Northampton for two years and it was my turn. I did not like it. I have never said that cleanly to him. I had a job at a community clinic with a caseload of thirty one and a commute that took fifty minutes each way on a good day, and I was twenty four and completely out of my depth, and the supervision was two hours a month, which is nothing. Tess Okonkwo thinks I moved to Asheville for the mountains. Everybody does. We moved because I was two years into a job that was taking the whole of me and giving back a salary, and Danny came home one evening in the spring of 2018 and said, do you want to just go somewhere, and I said yes before he had finished the sentence. Those two years are why I count my caseload. Twenty two is not thirty one. I say that to myself more often than is probably normal.