By the time Lashonda reached her apartment, it was after midnight.
She was shaking uncontrollably.
Her lips had turned pale blue.
She struggled to fit the key into the lock because she could barely control her fingers.
Once inside, she went straight to the bathroom and began warming herself gradually beneath the shower until the worst of the trembling finally eased.
Then she made the final packet of hot cocoa in the apartment.
Wrapped herself beneath every blanket she owned.
And climbed into bed.
Her last thought before sleep was not about the rent.
Not the missing bus.
Not the coat.
I hope he's okay.
I hope Mama's coat kept him warm.
Lashonda truly believed she would never see Arthur again.
She was wrong.
But first, nearly everything else in her life had to fall apart.
Saturday morning, Lashonda woke to three missed calls and a text message.
Emergency. Need you at diner now. Dmitri.
Her head throbbed.
Her throat felt raw.
Every muscle hurt.
When Lashonda tried sitting upright, a deep cough shook through her chest.
She touched her forehead.
Hot.
She had a fever.
Her phone showed eight degrees outside.
The snow had stopped.
The cold had not.
Lashonda dragged herself into the bathroom.
Her reflection looked terrible.
Pale skin.
Dark circles beneath her eyes.
She opened the medicine cabinet.
Two pain relievers remained.
She swallowed them with water and held onto the sink until the dizziness passed.
Her phone buzzed again.
Please hurry. Important.
Dmitri.
Lashonda looked toward the empty hook where the burgundy coat should have been.
Her apartment somehow felt colder without it.
She went downstairs to the donation area inside the building and found a threadbare gray hoodie somebody had left behind.
It smelled faintly of mothballs.
Still, it was better than nothing.
The bus ride felt endless.
Lashonda sat with her eyes closed most of the way, trying to control her nausea and alternating between chills and sweating.
She should have remained home.
But Dmitri had sounded desperate.
When she walked into Riverside Cafe at 7:15, Dmitri was sitting inside a corner booth with documents spread across the table.
His head rested in his hands.
Maria was there too.
Her eyes were red.
Lashonda's stomach dropped.
"What's going on?"
Dmitri looked up.
He seemed to have aged ten years overnight.
"Sit down."
Lashonda slid into the booth.
Maria squeezed her hand.
Dmitri pushed one of the documents toward her.
Official letterhead.
Legal language.
"The building's been sold," he said.
Lashonda looked up sharply.
"The new owner is tripling the rent starting next month."
"Tripling?"
Dmitri nodded.
"Or we can buy the building ourselves."
He stared at the paper.
"$480,000."
"How long?"
"Thirty days to decide."
The number sat over the table like a death sentence.
"I went to three banks yesterday," Dmitri continued. "All said no. Credit isn't strong enough. I'm too old. They say the neighborhood is too risky."
He laughed bitterly.
"Forty years here, and now it's over."
Maria wiped her eyes.
"I already started looking for another job. Nothing has hours like this. Nothing lets me pick up my kids."