Paige smiled and gave my arm a quick, warm squeeze.

“Everything in this apartment belongs to the person who earned it,” Paige said.

She walked out into the carpeted hallway and pulled the front door shut until the latch clicked.

At half past seven, the living room filled with quiet, cool twilight.

I filled the kettle at the kitchen sink and set it on the stove.

When the water whistled, I poured it over a chamomile tea bag in my new stoneware mug.

The sweet herbal steam rose into the warm kitchen air.