“You aren’t a student are you?” the realtor wanted to know.

“No, I’m a teacher.”

“Good, because students don’t have a chance.”  He laughed, picking out several application forms for the apartment and tossing them into the trash.

I was sitting at the kitchen table of yet another apartment.  But this time I was done with WGs.  This time I wanted to find a place just for me, two rooms so I wouldn’t have to work in the same room where I slept, a kitchen that made me want to always be cooking, my own bathroom, reasonably priced, in Frankfurt. (Who I was kidding?)