Family Landlords Raise the Rent to Force One Sister Out
I carefully lifted the wooden frame off the wall hook, making sure the wire did not scrape against the plaster.
The canvas was dry and slightly dusty as I carried it back to my bedroom and wrapped it in a sheet of brown packing paper.
I taped the edges of the paper, then slid the frame into the cardboard box, filling the empty spaces with my softest scarves.
I stood in the doorway of the living room, looking at the wall where the frame had spent two years.
The empty space on the living room wall where my favorite painting used to hang, leaving only a small nail behind.
The heavy truck engine idled with a loud, rhythmic rattle that shook the plastic dashboard. Keith shifted the gear stick into first with a sharp clank, his blue ballpoint pen tucked behind his ear. The gray morning was just beginning to show over the rooftops of the warehouses along the river.
“The clutch on this flatbed is stiff,” Keith said, keeping his eyes on the side mirror as we pulled away from the curb.
