The notice was taped to my door when I got home from work.

Past due. Full amount required by Friday. Contact building management.

I already knew I didn’t have it. The last temporary contract had ended two weeks earlier and the new one didn’t start until Monday. I had been stretching groceries and ignoring the landlord’s increasingly short emails. Friday was tomorrow.

I was still standing in the hallway staring at the paper when the stairwell door opened and a man walked out carrying a small stack of envelopes. Tall. Early thirties. Dark hair, sharp jaw, the kind of quiet confidence that came from never having to ask twice for...