Just a sharp nod and a clear path forward. That was Luna. Back at my apartment, packing took less time than I expected. It was strange how little of my life fit into two suitcases, a stack of shirts and jeans, a few books, my old laptop, the framed photo of my parents standing in front of dad’s truck, both of them smiling like the future was wide open.
I took down the cheap poster on my wall and stared at the pale square it left behind. This place had never felt like home, but it had been mine. For a second, I thought about tearing up the contract, calling Luna and telling her I had changed my mind. Then I pictured mom’s house in Texas, the stack of medical bills with dad’s name at the top. The eviction notice on my door.
At 5 on the dot, a black SUV pulled up to the curb. The driver knew my name. The ride downtown felt like a one-way trip to another planet. The penthouse was at the top of a glass tower in the heart of Denver. The elevator needed the key card to move. When the doors slid open, I stepped into a space that felt like a magazine spread.
Floor to ceiling windows on two sides. White walls, gray leather couches, clean lines, no clutter, no warmth. Luna stood by the kitchen island with a tablet in her hand. She wore a simple blouse and dark pants, but still looked like she was about to walk into a boardroom. Your room is down that hall. Second door on the left, she said. Closet is empty.
The bathroom is yours. We will need to move some of your things in fast so it looks real. Photos, mail, that sort of thing. I nodded, trying not to stare at the view of the city and the mountains beyond it. This place is big. She glanced around like she was seeing it for the first time.
