There I was in the grocery, pressing the ends of a cantaloupe and sniffing it, trying to decide if it was ripe. Across the produce section, I spotted my landlord. I waved, a normal courtesy I extended the two times a year I happened upon him in real life. He left his cart, and came rushing towards me. As he came closer, I realized he was mad. “Why haven’t you paid your rent in four months?” he yelled.
I felt adrenaline surge through my body. What was he talking about? I always paid my rent. Never so much as a day late. Every month, a week before it was due, I wrote a check to my roommate and best friend, Leah*. Keep reading »