Chapter 1: The Birthday Breakfast
338 words
Fifty-eight. The number felt heavy, like a stone swallowed whole. I woke not to the smell of pancakes, but to the slam of a ceramic mug against the granite countertop.
"This swill is cold, Loretta!" Richard bellowed from the kitchen.
I shuffled down the hall, my faded department store robe pulled tight against the morning chill. In the kitchen, Richard stood by the island. His jet-black dyed hair gleamed under the pot lights, a stark, unnatural contrast to his sweaty, ruddy complexion. He was already squeezed into a suit two sizes too small, the fabric straining across his shoulders.
"Happy Birthday," he sneered, sliding a thick manila envelope across the marble. "Don't say I never got you anything."
include My heart hammered against my ribs. Was it a bill? A foreclosure notice? The last five years had been a tightrope walk of medical expenses for Dad, and Richard had never let me forget a single cent spent.
I opened the flap, my fingers trembling. The words PETITION FOR DISSOLUTION OF MARRIAGE stared back at me in bold, black ink. The room spun. Thirty years. Gone in the time it took to tear paper.
"I need a fresh start, Lo. And frankly, you're bad for my brand," Richard said, checking his reflection in the toaster oven. "I'm a businessman. I need vitality. You needed... a reality check."
He wasn't just leaving me. He was discarding me. I looked at the bottom of the page. He was demanding everything. The house. The car. He was leaving me with nothing but the debts he’d accrued in my name.
The doorbell rang, sharp and intrusive, cutting through the ringing in my ears. I didn't move, so Richard shoved past me, throwing the door open. A stranger in a windbreaker stood there, face impassive.
"Loretta Miller?" the stranger asked, looking past Richard's shoulder to me.
I nodded, mute.
He thrust a pink slip into my hand. "You've been served. Eviction notice. You have forty-eight hours to vacate the premises."
End of Chapter 1
