Chapter 2
Kitchen air stayed tight long after Diane said it. Pack your bags. Words didn't fade. Hung between marble island and white cabinets like smoke.
Tyler stood half in frame, gray shirt wrinkled at sleeve where he had been gesturing. Diane didn't move from her spot near fridge. Brass padlock caught light. Chain hung heavy through steel handles. Rusted links left faint orange dust on steel.
I still held notice. Folded grocery receipt now damp from palm. My mouth dry. Heart thumped against ribs.
Nobody opened door. Nobody packed bag. That was problem. Notice spoken, but feet rooted.
Diane turned first. Not toward me. Toward chain. Checked padlock with quick tug. Metal clinked. Satisfied. Then looked at me.
"Kitchen closed after nine," she said. "You knew rules."
I didn't answer. Throat locked.
Tyler touched my elbow. Light grip. Meant to guide me out of kitchen, not comfort.
May you like
"Come on," he whispered. "Hallway. Let's talk."
I followed him because staying meant staring at locked fridge. Diane stayed behind. I heard fridge hum louder, or maybe silence louder.
