Rent was $1,275 and due Tuesday. Sunday night she sat on the edge of the bed refreshing a banking app that kept returning the same number, $11.04, as though she had not asked properly. Friday's shift had been $312 in tips. She could account for $90 of it out loud; for the rest she had a feeling instead of a number.

She drafted a text to her roommate and deleted it, drafted one to her father and deleted that as well. Then she opened the app where the rest of Friday had gone and read the weekend offer at the top of the screen twice before locking the phone. She slept with the lamp on, in her work clothes, rent still due Tuesday.