Chapter 19 - The Condo
I nearly sold condo.
Twice.
Every corner held memory.
The table location.
Hall safe.
Living room camera.
For months I slept with bedroom door open because closed felt trapped.
Then a realtor gave estimate.
I could sell at gain.
Dad:
“Do you want new place?”
“I want not remember.”
“Different.”
He always did that.
I stayed six more months.
Changed flooring in dining area.
Painted walls.
Moved safe to bank deposit, replaced with smaller fireproof box.
Removed old security camera, installed visible modern system.
Not because hiding.
Then one evening I hosted six coworkers for dinner.
Food late.
No one cared.
We laughed.
Someone spilled wine.
I froze for one second.
Then handed towel.
No table kicked.
That simple contrast healed.
I kept condo.
It remained mine until age 37 when I sold to move closer to work in West Loop.
Not fleeing.
Market.
The closing documents listed:
Seller: Ava Bennett, unmarried.
I smiled at word.
Then sale proceeds.
Separate property under divorce.
No claim.
May you like
Invested.
No secret.
