M
down and shu
. Vince's office is as grim as the rest of the c
" His voice is calm, but t
I say. "I'l
. "You've been here a week and haven't collected
our paycheck. He knows how to squeeze
ppears at the door,
, bo
, handing him the envel
ks, b
at me. "You sti
st in six months. I don't even bother going
hter echoe
t lights buzz overhead, like they're mocking me
phone
i
s the only one in this city who t
, trying to
rk," she says, panic in h
way home. W
e. Then, "We'v
it like a p
ickly, voice shaking. "And... y
e TV doesn't matte
mewhere else. Chec
erywhere, Em
heap metal, maybe-but it was hers. A memory I wore close until I go
y grip tightens
E
," I
ispers. "I should've b
's not your fault we live in a shitt
tretches
ietly, "Why are
tate.
softens. "I'll get
's my
lip the phone into my pocket and keep walking,
t to that apartment. Not to the empt
k the necklace under my shirt like it was something
se I didn't want to lose i
n corners without direction, feet moving just to escape my own thoughts
ognize this part of the building. And oddly,
p wal
overhead lights shift to a soft, golden glow. I blink. For a mo
open. Laughter and voices drift from inside.
the need to feel anything-I ste
at, I step into