Amy waited for April until sleep claimed her.
She woke later to the sharp chime of her door's ring alarm- a sound she didn't even know existed until that day. Groggy and disoriented, she shuffled to the door and opened it, barely awake.
"Sweet afternoon to you, dearest," April greeted, all cheer and brightness.
Amy barely managed an eye roll. April caught it anyway and waved it off with a grin.
"I'm sincerely sorry for coming so late today," April continued. "There was an emergency."
Amy retrieved her phone from the couch, typed quickly, and handed it to her.
Is everything alright now?
April laughed- awkward, tired. "I was late to Ms. Nova's apartment too. You tell me if I'm alright."
Amy knew the old woman well. Too well. She'd had the honor of meeting her far more often than she'd liked- and every time, it was the same complaints: too much noise, too much perfume, too many flowers on the balcony. Recently? Too much Golden.
Amy laughed, sympathetic, and typed again.
Good for me. She didn't knock on my door last night.
April winced. "She comes to you every night?"
Amy shook her head slightly and typed,
Before yesterday? I thought I was her nightly routine.
April laughed, but the sound carried sadness. She genuinely felt for Amy- though she wasn't sure how much she could help. Or maybe she was.
She took Amy's phone and copied a number into it.
Amy frowned and typed, And who's this?
"Ms. Jonah," April said proudly. "Your last-and permanent- resort when Ms. Nova becomes unbearable."
Amy laughed out loud.
Wow. Even Ms. Nova has someone she fears?
April hesitated, then blushed. "More like someone she loves and respects."
Amy blinked, intrigued. But before she could ask more, April was already getting to work. Amy sat back on the couch, scrolling aimlessly, when she noticed the emails.
They didn't say much- but the list of recipients made her stomach tighten.
Management.
Teachers.
Casual laborers.
Students.
Tenants.
A meeting.
Tomorrow morning.
Seven a.m. sharp.
It felt urgent. Too urgent. Amy's chest tightened. She had never been good at calming her nerves- and this time, they refused to listen.
April found her on the floor, gasping for air.
"Oh my God- Amy!" April dropped beside her, pulling her into her arms and pressing her gently against her chest. "Listen to my voice, love. Wherever you are, wherever your mind's gone- I'm right here."
Amy's breathing wouldn't slow.
April softened her tone further, steady and grounding. "There, there… breathe for me, Amy. I'm right here. You don't need to be scared. It's alright to feel overwhelmed. Just breathe it out… that's it…"
She kept going until Amy's breaths finally evened out.
Amy was exhausted. Tears streamed down her face, unchecked.
April didn't ask questions. She didn't assume anything. She simply excused herself to get a glass of water.
Then she opened the fridge.
Shock didn't begin to cover it.
April stormed back into the living room, furious. "Why didn't you say anything?"
Amy was drained- mind foggy, throat dry, body heavy. She stared at April blankly.
"There's nothing in your fridge," April continued, voice shaking. "No food. No clean water. Not even snacks in the drawers."
She handed Amy the glass and sat beside her on the floor, her heart aching. "Since when have you been living like this? Why didn't you tell me?" April's voice became small, "I thought we were friends..."
Amy felt shame crawl up her spine. She knew why she'd suffered in silence- but she didn't know how to explain it without sounding small. Without sounding like a child.
Her hands trembled as she typed.
Don't tell the others.
April froze. "You think that's what matters right now?"
She stood, hands on her hips, then suddenly paused- an idea striking her mid-thought.
"I'll be back."
And just like that, she was gone.
Leaving Amy on the floor, tear-streaked, exposed- clutching what little dignity she had left, fragile and bare.