“I put it under your door on the first,” I lie. My heart is beating fast, but I try to ignore it and practice the Lee Stras- berg method—an acting philosophy espoused by the likes of Angelina Jolie, Hazel and Camilla, and (last but certainly not least) Ms. Winona Ryder. I just have to become the character I am playing. I slow my breathing and start to believe my role: I am a responsible tenant who pays rent, who always pays rent. The issue must be hers. Marta is disorganized. She lost the check.

Marta looks down at a crumpled paper in her hand. She is disorganized. And she is wearing a nightgown in the afternoon. “According to my records, I’m missing September and October rent from you.”

I feel relief. According to my records, I haven’t paid August’s rent either. So she isn’t keeping the best track of things. “I don’t know what to tell you, Marta,” I say calmly, embodying my role. “I slipped September’s and October’s rent under your door as I always do. Is it possible you accidentally threw them away? Or they slid under the carpet or something?”

She narrows her eyes at me. “I don’t know,” she says. “I’ll double-check.” She seems to believe me, and I feel great. Not just because I might be getting out of paying rent, but because I can still act.

I spend the next few hours finishing the BuzzFeed article, struggling with Virgo. Nothing about Thanksgiving seems Virgo. Thanksgiving is all about excess, and Virgos are spartan. Ultimately, I make Virgo ice water.

I don’t think too hard about it. I just need to hand in the article so I can get paid and cover December’s rent. But I need more money in case Marta follows up on the previous months. I can’t get evicted. I can’t go back to Riverside. My parents might not even let me back. I haven’t spoken to them in a few years.

I could end up on the streets.