His eyes scanned the first few lines.
The smirk faded.
Then disappeared completely.
“What the hell is this?” he asked, louder now—but not as confident.
“It’s a notice,” I replied. “And documentation.”
One of his friends leaned forward, trying to see. Tyson quickly lowered the page, but it was too late—the shift in the room had already happened.
“No, no,” he said, shaking his head. “This is some kind of joke.”
“It’s not,” I said.
Shelby finally looked up.
“What notice?” she asked, her voice small.
I reached into my purse again and pulled out a second copy.
“For you,” I said, placing it gently in front of her.
Her hands trembled as she picked it up.
She read slower than Tyson.
Every word seemed to weigh something.
And then her face drained of color.
“Eviction?” she whispered.
The word hung in the air like a crack in glass.
