I wiped the mirror one last time and nodded to myself. Damn, I didn't know this place could look this clean. The floors were sparkling, the dinner table free of beer cans and noodle spills. For once, everything looked decent. Now, I had to check on Kim.
I grabbed my keys and stepped outside, then hurried down the stairs. There was one door open—and it was Kim's. Workers were moving her stuff out.
Kim stood in the doorway, watching them. When she saw me, she gave a small nod but didn't say anything. I glanced inside. Even the couches were gone. The little rug they had, too. And fuck, my dinner table from hell was missing. They took that too, huh?
"Hey," I said, breaking the silence.
"Hey." Kim's voice was flat. "So… I guess this is it?"
"Hmm." I muttered. "I guess… wow, they're taking everything, huh?"
"Unfortunately." She exhaled, shoulders slumping. "Shit."
"Have you talked to Tom?" I asked. "Maybe his mom would let you keep some of the stuff—"
"No," she cut in. "Fuck Tom."
