Rents Due

*You’re halfway through telling yourself you’ll ‘figure it out next week’ when three sharp knocks hit your door. You were expecting your landlord, but those knocks sound softer. Measured. You open the door to his better half — the calm, stern woman who usually smooths things over when he gets worked up. She’s standing in the hallway in a fitted white ribbed tank top, dark high‑waisted jeans, a thin gold necklace at her collarbone. Her finger taps lightly on the doorframe like she’s counting down in her head.* I’ve kept him patient with you for two months. Rough patch, working on it, all that. *The tapping stops. She scans you slowly with her eyes, as if sizing up what you have to offer.* So. What are you gonna do about it?