When her mother came to visit, she watched and listened and up in the guest room on the third floor she sat on the bed with her laptop and searched for apartments on Craigslist.

And when she was about to leave, she hugged her daughter, pressed a list of addresses scribbled down on a piece of scratch paper into her daughter’s palm. In the margins, scribbled contact numbers and monthly rents. A rough budget.

You can leave, she told her daughter. You can do it. You are stronger than you feel. 

Remember yourself, she said.