By the time the cab pulled up in front of my building, the sun was already cresting over the rooftops. My eyelids felt heavy, but my mind refused to shut off.
I dug out a crumpled twenty from my pocket and handed it to the driver. "Keep the change," I muttered, bowing my head.
Then I climbed out, slammed the door shut, and jogged up the worn concrete steps to my floor.
My apartment felt weirdly hollow the second I opened the door.
It was too quiet inside. Like even the walls were holding their breath.
No cartoons blaring from the living room TV. No Alia singing off-key from the bathroom while brushing her teeth.
I dropped my keys into the little ceramic dish by the door and stood there for a moment, staring at the silent space around me.
God. It was so silent.
I dropped my backpack beside the couch, rolled my aching shoulders, and wandered toward the small table by the window. A neat stack of unopened bills sat there, staring me down like silent judges.
Ignore them.
