One cold evening, Lily sat on the kitchen floor playing with a cracked plastic doll while Olivia stared at a final eviction notice. Her hands shook as she read the words again, though she already knew them by heart.
“Mama,” Lily said softly, looking up. “Are we having dinner?”
Olivia swallowed and forced a smile. “Soon, sweetheart. Mama just needs a minute.”
There was nothing left to cook. The cabinets were bare. The ache in Olivia’s chest had nothing to do with hunger and everything to do with failure.
The knock came early the next morning. The landlord, Frank Willis, stood outside with two men behind him. His expression carried no anger, only impatience.
“I gave you time,” he said. “I cannot wait anymore.”
Olivia fell to her knees, begging him not to take their things, not to scare her child, not to make them disappear from the only place Lily had ever known. Frank did not answer. The men began lifting furniture, carrying out boxes, setting their lives on the sidewalk like unwanted trash.
Lily screamed, clutching Olivia’s arm. “Mama, please. I do not want to go.”
Then a black sedan stopped at the curb.