Family Landlords Raise the Rent to Force One Sister Out
I sat on the bottom step of the staircase inside the front entry, my coat zipped to my chin. The hallway was stripped of the small runner rug I had bought my first year here, leaving only the pale wood and the dark line of dust where the wool had ended.
Above me, the empty apartment was silent. Every light fixture I had paid for was gone, replaced by the cheap plastic bases the builder had left behind in the crawlspace.
At ten minutes past six, the latch on the main door clicked.
Vanessa walked in first, her arms full of bright orange shopping bags from the mall in Tigard. Her designer sunglasses were perched on her head, holding back her hair. She did not see me sitting in the shadow of the stairs. She hummed a little song under her breath as she reached the landing and pushed the door to my old apartment wide open.
She took two steps inside and stopped.
