After freshening up my makeup and curling the ends of my hair, I grab a pen and piece of notebook paper from my backpack. Out with friends to the movies, I write. Be back by midnight.
No 'love, Candice' or silly little hearts because even I can't fake those. Still holding the note, I pull the strap of my purse across my chest, tossing in a few leftover coins, some lip gloss, and my I.D. I take one last look at myself in the mirror before closing my window and heading down stairs.
I flip on the kitchen light, startled when I see a black roach scamper across the counter, immediately making me cringe. I can't stand bugs, especially disgusting roaches.
We don't have enough food lying around to attract them so they must be coming from some other apartment. I'm so grossed out, I tiptoe int
