The rental office smelled of stale coffee and cheap floor wax.

A young manager with a name tag that read Greg stood behind a thick plastic partition, sorting a stack of pink envelopes.

He looked up at the printed warrant Marcus pushed through the speaking slot.

He read the front page twice and didn’t look impressed.

“Unit four-twelve is locked out,” Greg said.

He turned to his computer and tapped at the keyboard, the screen throwing blue light across his face.

“Three months past due,” Greg said.