Not one she could survive hearing out loud.
“Lauren.”
He used her name the way people use a warning label.
“I was patient last month. I was patient this month. I can’t be your charity.”
She almost laughed at the word charity.
If only he knew what charity had cost her ten minutes ago.
“I understand.”
“You have until Friday.”
“That’s three days.”
“That’s right.”
“I know what day it is.”
“Then act like it.”
The call ended.
Lauren stood still for a long moment, phone limp in her hand.
Traffic moved past the alley mouth.
Somebody somewhere honked.
A delivery truck rattled over a pothole.
The whole town kept going like it always did.
That was the worst part of bad days.
The world never paused out of respect.
She pushed herself off the wall and started walking home.
It was forty minutes on foot if she cut through the side streets and didn’t stop.
