5Sep
the wrist, the cash, monday
The SUV is still idling across the street. Same plates as August. I am standing at the counter eating cold rice with my eyes on the window every thirty seconds,…
Amara
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Older days
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4Sep
His shoulder learned the shape of mine
The doorman's shoulder found mine again. Same one as last week. I know it was the same one because my bruise — the one I have been not mentioning to my mother —…
3Sep
Back So Soon, Miss Williams
The doorman said my name into the lobby like he was announcing me to a room I wasn't invited into. Miss Williams. Back so soon. Two tenants turned at the concie…
2Sep
Quiet money, loud husband
The husband line is the thing I cannot shake. I read it twice like an idiot, like maybe my eyes would fix it into something professional the second time around.…
1Sep
Second chair, Black woman
Mrs. Adler's hand under the breakfast table. She folded the three hundred into my palm — not a drop, a fold, like she was tucking a letter into a coat. And the…
31Aug
Fifty-Eight and the Photograph
The photograph. I keep circling back to the man on the stoop. Black coat, phone up, no pretense it was anything else. He was not a tourist — I know what tourist…
30Aug
twelve seconds, a key, a window
The woman at the laundromat counter said my name out loud. Or didn't — said you, but loud enough that two strangers folding shirts turned and clocked the look o…
29Aug
the folder I never wanted
Eleven minutes. I counted because I was watching the microwave clock from the bed and when I stopped I looked up and it had been eleven minutes. Camille's voice…
28Aug
the photo is the thing
The lock. Someone changed my lock while I was working all day and left a fresh screw by the mail slot like a signature and I stood in my own doorway for nine se…
27Aug
the other one
I keep hearing the receptionist in my head. She said miss to Jolene. She said the other one to me. Like Jolene was a person booking in for a service and I was t…
26Aug
The Envelope I Won't Open
The coffee did it. I spilled my mug reaching for the envelope this morning and the stain lifted an embossing I hadn't seen — two lines, no name, a Park Avenue a…
25Aug
Fifty-one and the bruise he left
Fifty-one. Yesterday I was forty-seven. Four bad weeks from suspension and the math is just — four bad weeks. One more of these and the platform drops me and th…
24Aug
the tribeca one
The doorman wanted me to know everybody was watching. He said it like a weather report — the other one left in a hurry, everybody in this neighborhood got a key…
23Aug
Two Alarms for Flatbush
He's at my stoop. Not Tribeca's lobby, not Penn's platform. My stoop. Black SUV, windows down, same beard behind the wheel, and he held the phone up like a man…
22Aug
the key, the twenty, the photograph
The key. Robin found it in the sock and held it up and didn't ask, which is worse than asking. She said the thing about earning, and she was right, and I put it…
21Aug
The doorframe took the skin off
The appeal says thirty more days. Thirty. I screenshot it next to the original one-star because one of them is wrong about who I am and I have decided it is the…
20Aug
Tasha is not my name
A woman I have never met walked into Mrs. Adler's apartment and called me Tasha. Not asked. Called. In front of the client, like I was a wrong number she had be…
19Aug
The word model, in his mouth
The husband said it twice. First at the door, loud, the model's here, babe, and I corrected him — I'm the stylist — and he came back with you look more like the…
18Aug
Lenox Road, eleven minutes
The man on the Nevins platform put me in my place before I opened my mouth. Tracksuit, white, decided. You know where the stylist thing is, right? I walked past…
17Aug
The hand first
The hand was on my shoulder before I saw him. Hard. Hard enough to spin me half around in Imani's hallway. I was facing the mirror when his palm hit and then I…
16Aug
A Deadline I Did Not Agree To
The sister thing. That's what did it. I never mentioned Atlanta. I never mentioned a sister. I had a whole fitting in Tribeca today — $2,400 return client, expe…
15Aug
still not opening it
You understand the ranking. I don't. I refuse to. The stool was mine. Eleven Tuesdays, seven months, every fold of that garment bag — mine. Jolene walked out ca…
14Aug
The SUV was back
The SUV was back. Ten days since the last time I saw it and I had let myself start believing I'd invented the whole thing, or that he'd moved on the way men in…
12Aug
Held for eleven minutes
Robin read the draft. I handed her the phone open and she said send it and I didn't send it. That was in the morning. By the afternoon she saw the edge of the e…
11Aug
the navy coat, the nine, the crack
I keep coming back to the navy coat. Not the thermos, not the pain, not even Robin's voice. The navy coat. He looked at me and saw a category. He looked at Robi…
10Aug
robin in the next bed
The mother from Detroit watched my hands and then said, in front of her daughters, that she wished she had had someone like me in her thirties. I am going to ca…
9Aug
Seven Minutes
seven minutes. I packed Camille's rack in seven minutes. I timed it without timing it. I am proud the way I am proud when a kid holds still for school photos: n…
8Aug
two men with my name
The bruise first. I keep seeing it. Hip, purple already by the time I got home. I stood in the bathroom with my shirt up and took three photos because the first…
6Aug
i've been patient too
Pereira said my name like he was reading it off a summons. Ms. Williams. Not Amara. The locksmith paperwork was already in his back pocket when he knocked, whic…
4Aug
She called me Tasha
A white lady knocked on Camille's door today. Right in the middle of the fit. She ran a model thing a long time ago. She said my old name out loud. Tasha. Like…
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