House Rules
The remaining four pages blur together.
You read them, or at least your eyes move across them, but the words stop registering.
It's the pressure of the situation, you tell yourself. The awareness that Charlotte is watching you with that patient, unreadable expression. That Gabbie is still smiling at you from the corner of the couch. That Alina has finally put her phone down and is now looking at you too, chin resting on her hand, with an expression you can't quite read.
Three women waiting. Your hotel checkout tomorrow morning. Your first day of work in less than sixteen hours. Your bank account begging for mercy.
You reach the last page. There's a line for your signature.
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