Five thousand dollars. Ten years of my life reduced to a line item.
Feeding, bathing, lifting, sitting through chemo, cleaning up blood and vomit and fear. Sitting upright at three in the morning with a hand on Margaret’s chest, counting each breath as if counting could keep her alive.Five thousand dollars.
Lisa let out a small sound, something between a laugh and a scoff. She didn’t even bother to cover her mouth.
The lawyer wasn’t finished. He straightened the papers and said, almost gently, that I would have forty eight hours to vacate the premises.
“Forty eight hours?” I heard myself repeat, like the words belonged to someone else.
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