Everything’s still rattling around in my head. It’s an echo chamber of shame, and not the fun kind. I hoped that Roman would change his mind against all the odds, even as I threw my things into the boxes and shoved them into the backseat of my car. Half of me wanted him to come after me and confess that even though I did something terrible, he couldn’t bear living without me. The other half wanted to be gone before he had the chance.

He never showed, so I guess I count that as half a victory.

It’s a ridiculous hope. Nobody gets over an accidental dick pic on the internet in ninety minutes.

As soon as I was off Bliss property, I pulled over in a residential neighborhood and logged into my banking app. I sent every Penny of Connor’s money back to Global via an e-check that will be printed and arrive in seven to ten business days. The money’s already out of my account, and it makes me feel lighter. Not happier, just...lighter.

Bliss pays every two weeks, however, so the gap significantly reduced my bank account. I’m not expecting another check from them. One hard look at my bills and loans told me the truth.

I don’t have enough money to get back to New York.

Even if went there, I wouldn’t have enough for a deposit on a place to stay. There’s no telling how long it’ll take me to save up that kind of cash again, and I don’t relish the thought of crashing on people’s couches indefinitely.

Once I’ve cleaned the cobwebs, things begin to look up in the apartment. I do the kitchen next. The one box that’s not in hopeless disarray is the box of cleaning supplies from the hardware store. That makes it easier to clean, but the cleaning doesn’t shut my brain off.

I deserve that, too.

There’s a thin layer of dust over everything, and I buff and wipe and spray until I reveal the kitchen’s true self. A dull pride flits by when I finish with the stove. It looks old, but the gas turns on well, and now it’s shining...

I have a clean stove. That’s it. A clean stove and a dead heart.

I spent the rest of the afternoon looking for a place to stay. The hotel rooms around town are already going for their summer rates, so that was out of the question. This apartment was in the classifieds. I bought a physical paper to find it, and the ad reminded me of a secret code. 1 BDRM DTWN RUBY BAY. STEEP STAIRS. GAS INCL. The editors had wedged the one-liner down toward the bottom of the page, too close to the margin. Perfect. I’m always living too close to the margin.