Page 7 of Daddies' Holiday Toy
It’s where I’ve spent countless nights elbow-deep in dough, where I’ve laughed with regulars over coffee and shared my secret recipes with little old ladies who reminded me of my grandma long since passed on.
How can it all end like this?
I force myself to keep walking, my legs heavy as I climb the last few steps and unlock my apartment door.
The hinges squeak in protest as I push it open, stepping into the dim, quiet space.
I drop the mail on the small counter by the door and hang up my coat, the landlord’s letter still clutched in my hand like a curse.
When I toss it onto the kitchen counter, it seems to mock me.
Seven days.
That’s all the time I have before I lose everything.
2
HOLLY
The morning air is bitter when I step outside of my apartment building the next morning.
The world around me feels muted in the way only early fall mornings can be.
All grey skies heavy with clouds, streets dusted with a fine layer of frost, and the occasional car rolling past as its tires whisper over the slightly slick pavement.
Even the holiday lights strung across shop windows seem duller today in the pale morning, their usual cheerful glow dimmed also by the weight pressing against my chest.
My dreams had been filled with stress and never-ending sagas of past due bills and my landlord banging on my front door, demanding every personal worldly possession I had.
It had been a less than ideal way to wake up, to say the least.
My feet drag as I make my way down the sidewalk to my landlord’s office.
Thankfully, it isn’t far, just six blocks from where my apartment is, but as I walk the distance, it feels miles longer the more I keep obsessing over what I’m going to say to him.
Negotiating isn’t my strong suit.
Never has been, actually.
I’m the type who avoids confrontation at all costs because stirring up trouble is never worth the headache afterward.
But if I don’t at least try to work something out with him about the lease, I’m going to lose everything I’ve worked years for, and that’s a reality I can’t accept.
Not at this point.
That thought alone makes me feel like I’m swallowing glass and forces me to let out a shaky breath as I wrap my jacket tighter around me.
The problem is, well, I’m not sure what the solution to any of this is.
What could I even offer him?
Partial payment?
A personal loan I don’t have the credit to secure?
I’ve tried to stay on his good side, making sure to always be polite whenever we interact and always make sure to pay on time.
Well, until now.
