“You Need to Be Out by Sunday,” My Mom Texted—Minutes Later, Their Key Cards Stopped Working

onto my couch.

“So your family tried to evict you from your own building?” she asked.

“That’s the short version.”

Natalie whistled. “That’s not family. That’s a hostile takeover.”

I laughed—real laughter, the kind that loosens something inside you.

“You know what they hate most?” Natalie asked. “That you didn’t need them.”

I stared at the city lights and continue reading …