She grabbed her denim jacket from the employee hook, pulled it on, and walked out through the side door into the alley where the dumpsters sat.
The evening air hit her face, cold and damp.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket before she even got to the sidewalk.
LANDLORD.
She stared at the screen until it stopped.
Then it buzzed again.
And again.
When she finally answered, she didn’t even say hello.
“You got my rent?” Mr. Talbot asked.
No concern.
No human warmth.
Just business in the shape of a voice.
“I’m trying,” Lauren said.
“You said that yesterday.”
“I know.”
“And the day before.”
Lauren leaned against the brick wall behind the restaurant and closed her eyes.
The alley smelled like old fryer oil and wet cardboard.
“I just need a little more time.”
“How much?”
She had no answer for that.
Not one he wanted.
