Marlene moved to the window and bounced Juniper against her shoulder, humming softly even though her throat felt tight. From a certain angle, if she leaned just right, she could see the distant shimmer of Manhattan across the river. A skyline full of light and promise that might as well have belonged to another planet.
Three months ago, she had not been this far from stability. She had worked as a junior accountant at Barton Ledger Group, a firm that paid modestly but reliably. Health insurance. A chair with her name on it. Then she noticed the numbers. Tiny discrepancies at first, payments routed through vendors that did not exist on any registry she could find. She asked her supervisor once, carefully, framing it as curiosity rather than accusation.
The next week, Human Resources escorted her out with a cardboard box and a rehearsed explanation about restructuring.
Now she worked nights at a convenience store for barely above minimum wage, smiling at customers who never looked at her twice. And tonight, the formula was gone.