Zombie's Leveling

“Ten minutes,” she said without looking up.

I nodded, lips pressed tight.

Same chair. Same chemical lemon smell—too clean, too fake. My palms stuck to my thighs. I stared past the glass at the shelves. Lined like soldiers. Every product knew its place. Its purpose.

Me? I was just taking up space.

Please let them say yes. Just once. Just one yes.

“Next.”

My body moved before my mind caught up. Legs are stiff. Feet heavy. The door grew larger the closer I got, like it knew what was coming.

Knock knock.

“Come in.”

His voice didn’t care.

Inside was colder. A stale mix of instant coffee and air freshener that tried too hard.

“Sit.”

I did.

He looked up. No expression. Nothing warm.

“The job’s taken,” he said flatly. “Yesterday. We didn’t get your file in time. Sorry.”

Static filled my ears. “But… I came yesterday. You told me to come back.”

He shrugged. “It didn't matter. Management already made the hire.”

My throat tightened. “Please. I can do anything. I have a younger sister—”

“Nothing open.”

That was it.

I stood slowly. “Thank you,” I whispered, even though I didn’t mean it.

Outside, Emily was waiting.

Her eyes caught mine. “No?”

I shook my head.

She didn’t press. Just walked beside me.

“But he said… he told all of you to come back.”

“Maybe that was the plan,” I muttered. “Keep us hoping long enough to shut the door easily.”

The sun hit my face, but it felt like heat without light.

“I don’t know what this is anymore,” I said. “Defeat? Shame? Just...numb.”

She said nothing. Just silence, like she was afraid anything she said might break me further.

At the corner, she dug in her bag. Pulled out a folded note.

“Here. For you and Joy.”

I stared at the twenty. “Why?”

“Because you need it.”

I hesitated. “So I’m a charity case now?”

Her face changed. “Don’t do that.”

I clenched my fists. Turned away. But something inside cracked and let the truth spill.

“I feel like I’m drowning and everyone just keeps walking past the water.”

She hugged me. Tight. I didn’t hug back. Then I did. Hard.

“You’re not alone,” she said.

Then she let go. “There’s a woman near my block. She sells water by the roadside. I’ll ask if she needs help.”

“If it feeds Joy, I’ll sweep the gutters.”

She nodded. “Keep your phone on.”

Then she was gone.

I just stood there with twenty and too many thoughts. My hand trembled. I told myself it was the wind.

When I got home, Joy opened the door. Bright smile—until she saw me.

“What happened?”

I collapsed into the couch. “They gave the job away. Said it was filled.”

She sat beside me. Didn’t cry. I just held my hand.

“You’ve been trying,” she said. “Since everything. You never stopped.”

I looked at her, and in her eyes was the only reason I hadn’t broken yet.

“I’ll keep going,” I whispered.

She stood. “Then you need to eat first. Fight with food in your belly.”

She went into the kitchen. I stayed where I was. My hands were empty, but my heart felt full.

Someone knocked. Slow. Like they knew I’d hesitate.

I sat still for a second. My hands were already shaking.

“Who’s that?” I asked, though I didn’t want to know.

“It’s your landlord,” he said. “Mary, please come out.”

Of course it was.

I opened the door.

He was standing there in his usual shirt, slightly stained at the collar, holding that tired look he always wore when it was about money. The kind of tiredness that’s not about sleep.

“Good evening, sir,” I said, not meeting his eyes.

“Evening,” he said, flat. “I came to remind you. Your rent. It’s due tomorrow. The rest have paid. You haven’t.”

I bit the inside of my cheek. It tasted like blood and shame.

“I know,” I said. “I... I don’t have it yet. But I’m working on something. Please, just give me till next week. I’ll sort it out.”

He stared at me for a moment. Not angry. Just... done. Like someone who’s had this conversation too many times with too many people.

“Next week,” he said. “That’s the last I can do.”

I nodded. “Thank you.”

He turned and walked down the corridor. No threats. No noise. Just footsteps fading.

I shut the door and leaned on it.

I didn’t cry. Not this time.

I just stood there. Listening to Joy breathe in her sleep. Listening to how loud everything felt when you had no answers.

Next week.

Like it was a place I could walk to.

That had to count for something. Right?

My phone buzzed. Emily.

“Where are you?” Her voice was loud, music blaring in the background.

“Home,” I said. “Was about to sleep.”

“Don’t. Come out. I’m buying. Just dance the day off.”

She dropped a location.

I stared at the screen. Then I got up, found a shirt that didn’t smell like worry, brushed my hair, and walked into the night.

Halfway down the street, a car slowed. Sleek. Black. Windows tinted like secrets.

It stopped.

I kept walking.

Honk.

Still walking.

The door opened.

A man stepped out. Sharp suit. Like he belonged in a world that didn’t even know mine existed.

“Evening,” he said.

I didn’t answer.

He smiled. “Didn’t mean to scare you. I’m Lucas.”

I said nothing.

“I know this sounds strange… but I saw you and—look, something about you made me stop.”

I squinted at him. “You don’t know me.”

“No. But maybe I want to.”

Pause. Then—

“One night. Just company. Nothing sketchy. Five grand.”

I froze.

“What?”

“Five thousand. Just tonight. You keep me company. No strings. No pressure. You say no, I leave. But say yes…”

He opened the door.

I should’ve said no.

But I thought of Joy’s worn-out shoes. The unpaid light bil

l. The cracked fridge.

I got in.

He shut the door like it was nothing. Like everything hadn’t just changed.

“You’re safe,” he said.

We drove off.

But in my chest—something had already started burning.