Family Landlords Raise the Rent to Force One Sister Out
She dropped her keys onto the kitchen counter.
“Where is my lease, Vanessa?” I asked, holding the yellow sticky note in my hand.
Vanessa did not look at me, her fingers already reaching for the remote control on the sofa.
“I do not know anything about your paperwork, Lauren,” she said, her voice rising in that high, theatrical tone.
“Mom was here while I was at work on Wednesday,” I said, walking into the living room.
“Did she take the pink folder?”
Vanessa shrugged, slipping her sunglasses onto her head.
“Maybe you just lost it,” she said.
“You always were messy with your files.”
She pressed the power button, and the television screen filled the room with bright, noisy light.
I walked back to the hallway cabinet and looked down into the empty slot.
A thin gray line of dust where my lease folder used to sit in the cabinet, proving someone had reached in while I was at work.
