No Ordinary People
The smell of stale coffee and disinfectant hung heavy in the air of the café bathroom. Phoebe, half-naked, furiously scrubbed her pants under the running faucet, the white fabric stubbornly clinging to the dark coffee stains. Her thighs burned where the hot liquid had scalded her, a depressing souvenir from a clumsy collision with a stranger.
She caught her reflection in the mirror: disheveled hair, smudged eyeliner, and a faint, backwards logo on her inside-out t-shirt. Below her collarbones, things were decidedly worse – the crimson of her underwear peeking out, highlighting the angry welts on her pale skin.
"No, no, no," she chanted, willing away the strange black spots that began to appear near the waistband of her pants. It wasn't until she pried apart the sodden fabric of her pocket that the grim reality hit her: a very wet, very crumpled piece of paper with the words "FINAL EVICTION NOTICE" bleeding ink onto her already ruined clothes.
A desperate, silent scream caught in her throat. She balled up the soaked paper, aiming it at the heavens as if to curse the cruel, capricious god toying with her life. The thought of her parents, and the potential psychiatric bill, quickly stifled her outburst.
"Money," she muttered, a resigned sigh escaping her lips. "Always money."
