Amy's POV
The letter from Mark arrived on a Tuesday, tucked between a water bill and a takeout menu, as though it were trying to be ordinary. I stood at the mouth of the mailbox for a long moment, staring at my brother's handwriting tidy, deliberate, the penmanship of a man who did everything with uncomfortable precision. I already knew what it would say before I tore it open. I'd overheard the phone call two weeks prior, had pressed myself flat against the wall outside the kitchen while his voice carried through the apartment.
Effective the first of next month, your allowance will be reduced to one hundred and fifty dollars.
One hundred and fifty dollars. I folded the letter back into thirds and stood there in the hallway while a neighbour's dog sniffed at my ankles. One hundred and fi
