Nia
Late evening finds me slumped on my new, soft grey sofa, feet on the small glass coffee table above a furry cream rug. I'm bathed, exhausted, and to a degree, content. I spent the entire day organizing my new home. I literally stormed through the two-bedroom apartment, putting to place everything in my path with not a moment of rest. The grumble coming from my stomach reminds me that the coffees in the morning were the only "food " I've had today.
Heading toward the kitchen, I freeze in place when a loud sound cracks the silence of my home, a sound of something shuttering coming from upstairs. Another thud that sounds like an object crashing to the floor above me makes me flinch. At the third one, the hair on the back of my neck rises in tandem to a wave of panic that washes over m
