#phillylit

#TRAPKARAOKEPHL #PHILLYNIGHTS #NITTYINDACITY #PHILLYLIT !!!!!!!!!

#PHILLYNIGHTS #PHILLYLIT #NITTYINDACITY

#PHILLYLIT! #PHILLYNIGHTS #NITTYINDACITY

Sometimes Lacey was grateful that she lived only a few blocks away from her childhood home. The free meals and laundry were nice, sure, but witnessing the routines of domestic life comforted her. Although her mother, Patti, could be relentless and her father, Danny, spent more time on the porch with his softpack of Merits and the back half of the Daily News than he did in the house, it was familiar. More often, however, Lacey was convinced that she had become a cliche - another Philly neighborhood girl who, despite a degree from a “competitive, small liberal arts school”, was still a neighborhood girl. Her first post-college apartment, which she shared with three other girls from Dickinson, was structurally no different than her parents’ rowhome on Dexter Street. When she and her roommates signed the lease, Lacey had lobbied hard for the front bedroom not only because it was the largest, but also because she knew from experience that it received the best natural light and possessed the only decent view. And Lacey’s extra fifty dollars per month would be worth the closet space.