The walk back to my apartment building felt longer than usual. Maybe it was the soreness in my legs from chasing that scumbag or the weight of the day finally pressing down on me. Either way, I dragged my feet, the strap of my reclaimed bag digging into my shoulder as I shuffled past flickering streetlights.
By the time I reached the front of my building, my patience had worn thinner than the soles of my battered heels. The fluorescent sign above the door buzzed faintly, casting a sickly yellow glow over the cracked pavement. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was home—sort of.
I pushed open the glass door, its hinges letting out an obnoxious squeal as I stepped into the lobby. The familiar scent of floor cleaner and faint mildew hit me, and I grimaced. The landlord really needed to do someth
