Page 17 of Little Sunshine

Any day.

It would never happen. The people who could move did so quickly, and the ones who couldn’t had to suck it up.

I was in the suck-it-up category since it had the cheapest rent for a place on a bus route.

Usually, I didn’t mind the hike up the stairs, but my stomach had already been iffy after I’d eaten the delicious food at Moonlight. When I’d taken off running, that iffy had turned into an outright no. I’d barely made it to a side alley before throwing up everything.

I hadn’t cared that the few onlookers had loudly taunted me, assuming I was drunk or high. I’d just been happy the behemoth wasn’t among them.

The downside was that the hunger I’d finally satisfied was back. And thanks to the retching, it hurt so much worse than before.

Enough nutrients must’ve hit my blood sugar, though, because I no longer felt like passing out.

Small victories.

Tiny victories.

Infinitesimal ones.

Whatever bright side I tried to look on disappeared as I went to open my door, only to find it already unlocked.

Shit.

A sane person may have seen that and backed away to call the cops.

I didn’t bother.

For one, it’d take the cops forever to get over to my side of town. I was too tired to wait.

Mostly, though, it was because I knew the likely culprit.

Positioning my keys between my fingers like a discount, off-brand Wolverine, I rushed inside, not stopping to check that I was truly alone.

Not really caring.

Going right to the kitchenette, my stomach sank to my feet when I saw the cabinets were open. I ignored the pain that radiated as I dropped to my knees and dug around the mess left under my sink.

Please.

Please.

Please, please, please.

But I knew.

Even before I grabbed the innocuous-looking rubber tube of wipes.

Even before I wedged the lid off.

Even before my eyes fully processed what I saw—or, more accurately, didn’t see.

Every tiny bit of cash that I’d hoarded away was gone.

Stolen.

When I’d moved out of my mother’s house at sixteen, I’d vowed that eviction and homelessness were a thing of the past. No matter how strapped I was, I’d always kept aside enough money for a couple of months’ rent. Or, if things really went to hell, it would secure a new, equally shitty apartment on short notice.

At times, I’d wanted to dip into those funds. To splurge on a huge meal. To shop for groceries that weren’t on sale.

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