“Artistic ambitions are completely unrealistic when you have real monthly rent to pay on your own.”

Caroline let go of the silver chain and let her hand fall to her side.

“The house key will be on the kitchen table when you get back this afternoon,” she said.

The brass indicator above the elevator chimed, but Caroline turned away from the opening doors, walked down the corridor, and pushed through the heavy steel fire door into the stairwell.

By three o’clock that afternoon, the living room of the Elmwood flat was completely cleared of furniture.