A Love Story, of Sorts
When I moved into my first apartment, I had exactly zero furniture. The first night I actually lived there, I sat on the ground and ate falafel sandwiches from Sultan Market in a giddy display of what I believed to be adult grit and fortitude. Eventually, I furnished my home with an eclectic mix of hand-me-downs, Goodwill gems, incomprehensible Ikea finds, and my pìece de résistance: my couch. I spent weeks looking for the perfect sofa. I scoured the Internet,…