He slipped the envelope into the front pocket of my open tote bag.

The white paper sat there, stiff and clean.

“I have to think about the rest of the building,” he said.

“The notice gives you thirty days.

It is standard.”

“I have lived here for three years,” I said.

“I have never missed a rent payment.”

“It is not about the rent,” he said, turning toward the basement stairs.