Chapter 16 - The Remnant
Two miles away, in a cramped, two-room apartment in Queens, Chloe Miller sat at a Formica kitchen table, stirring a mug of instant coffee with a plastic spoon.
She wore a faded sweatpane and no makeup. Her fingernails were short, unpolished, bitten down to the quick.
On the table lay a rejection letter from a low-level paralegal firm in Brooklyn:
REGRET TO INFORM YOU THAT DUE TO YOUR PREVIOUS RECORD, WE CANNOT OFFER YOU EMPLOYMENT AT THIS TIME.
Through the thin drywall of the apartment, the muffled noise of street traffic and barking dogs drifted up from the alley below.
Her phone chimed on the table.
It was an automated bank alert from her basic checking account:
MONTHLY SERVICE FEE DEDUCTED: $12.00. REMAINING BALANCE: $114.52.
She looked at the screen for a long time, then turned her head to look out the narrow window at the rain starting to streak across the dirty glass.
May you like
She remembered the ivory sectional, the white orchids, the warm amber lamps, and the sound of the wind fifty stories above Park Avenue.
She buried her face in her hands and began to cry—quietly, helplessly, into the cold, empty room.
