Before the Knock
I just grunted, not bothering with words.
I hung up and sprawled out on my bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling.
Maybe my mom had a point.
I would give it a few days, and things would look up.
A month went by.
I clocked out early that day, and I got home by 5:30 p.m.
Stepping out of the elevator, I was greeted by three men at my door.
Dressed in black jackets, they were in a heated discussion with the building's management.
"If she's not home, she's not home. We'll wait," they said.
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