The eviction notice was pink.
Ava Carter stared at the cheerful salmon-colored paper taped to their apartment door, wondering if landlords chose that shade on purpose. Like maybe they thought it would soften the blow of being thrown out on the street. Sorry you're homeless, but look - it's a lovely dusty rose!
"Thirty days," she whispered, her breath fogging in the cold hallway. December in Chicago didn't mess around, and neither did their landlord, apparently.
She peeled the notice off carefully, as if being gentle with it might somehow change the words. Three months behind on rent. Legal action pending. Vacate premises by January 15th.
Merry Christmas to us.
"Ava? That you?" Talia's voice drifted through the thin door, warm and worried in the way that had become too familiar lately.
Ava crumpled the notice into her jacket pocket and forced her face into something resembling normal. "Yeah, it's me."
The door opened to reveal Talia Martinez in paint-splattered pajamas, her dark hair escaping from a messy bun, holding a steaming mug that smelled like heaven. Behind her, their tiny studio apartment glowed with the soft light of thrift store lamps and the fake Christmas tree they'd rescued from someone's curb.
"You look like you've seen a ghost," Talia said, stepping aside to let her in. "Rough day at the temp agency?"
"Something like that." Ava kicked off her worn boots and accepted the mug Talia pressed into her hands. Hot chocolate - the real kind, not the watery packets. Which meant Talia had spent money they didn't have to make her feel better.
The guilt sat in her stomach like a stone.
"Any luck today?" Talia asked, settling cross-legged on their secondhand couch.
Ava perched on the edge of the cushion, still wearing her coat. "The receptionist job went to someone with 'more experience.' The retail position was filled this morning. And the coffee shop..." She took a sip of chocolate, letting the warmth slide down her throat. "Let's just say they weren't impressed when I couldn't work every weekend for the next six months."
"Your weekend art classes are important-"
"My weekend art classes don't pay rent, Talia." The words came out sharper than she intended. "Nothing I do pays rent. Nothing I do pays anything."
They sat in silence, the weight of unspoken truths settling between them. Talia's teacher salary barely covered their expenses when they both contributed. Now, with Ava unemployed for the third month running, they were drowning.
"I saw Mrs. Chen in the hallway earlier," Talia said carefully. "She mentioned the landlord was making rounds today."
Ava's hand went instinctively to her pocket, feeling the crumpled paper through the fabric. "Did she say anything else?"
"Just that she was worried about us. Asked if we needed anything." Talia's eyes searched Ava's face. "Ava, what aren't you telling me?"
For a moment, Ava considered lying. Considered pretending everything was fine, that they had more time, that she hadn't just seen their future spelled out in cheerful pink letters. But Talia deserved better than pretty lies.
She pulled out the notice and smoothed it on the coffee table between them.
Talia went very still. "Thirty days?"
"Thirty days."
"But I thought we had until March-"
"That was when we were only two months behind." Ava's voice cracked. "Now we're three months behind, plus late fees, plus interest, plus whatever other charges they can dream up. We owe them almost four thousand dollars, Talia."
The number hung in the air like a curse.
"I have some money saved-" Talia started.
"No." Ava stood up abruptly, pacing to their single window that looked out onto the alley. "You're not dipping into your emergency fund again. You're not selling your grandmother's jewelry. You're not taking on extra tutoring jobs until you collapse from exhaustion. You've done enough."
"You're my best friend-"
"And you're mine, which is exactly why I can't keep letting you carry me." Ava pressed her forehead against the cold glass. "Do you know what it's like, watching you sacrifice everything while I fail at job after job, rejection after rejection. Do you know what it feels like to be twenty-four years old and completely useless?"
"You're not useless."
"I am, though." The words tasted bitter. "I dropped out of college. I can't hold down a job for more than a few months. I have no real skills, no connections, no family to fall back on. I'm exactly what every guidance counselor warned kids not to become."
Talia was quiet for a long moment. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft but firm. "You know what I see when I look at you?"
Ava didn't turn around. "A charity case?"
"I see someone who taught herself three languages by watching foreign movies. Someone who can fix anything with duct tape and determination. Someone who memorized every customer's order at that coffee shop in two days. Someone who stayed up all night helping me paint sets for the school play, even though you were exhausted from job hunting."
"None of that pays bills."
"Maybe not. But it tells me you're not giving up." Talia stood, crossing to the window. "So what's the plan?"
Ava finally turned to face her friend. Talia's warm brown eyes were steady, trusting, completely confident that somehow Ava would figure this out. The faith in that gaze was almost unbearable.
"I don't know," Ava admitted. "I've applied everywhere. Fast food, retail, cleaning services, telemarketing. Nobody wants someone with a resume that looks like swiss cheese."
"What about online work? Freelancing?"
"I've tried. The competition is insane, and most jobs want a portfolio I don't have or experience I can't get without already having the job." Ava slumped against the window frame. "It's like every door is locked, and I don't have any of the right keys."
Talia was quiet, her teacher-brain clearly working through possibilities. "What about temporary work? Holiday season stuff?"
"All filled. Apparently everyone else had the same idea two months ago."
"Personal assistant jobs? You're organized, you're smart-"
"I've looked. Most want someone with previous assistant experience or a degree or both.
They stood there in the growing darkness, the eviction notice glowing white on the coffee table behind them. Outside, snow had begun to fall, fat flakes that would be beautiful if they weren't a reminder of how cold the streets would be come January.
"We'll figure something out," Talia said finally. "We always do."
But for the first time since they'd become friends, Ava wasn't sure that was true. She wasn't sure about anything anymore, except that she was tired of being the pers
on everyone else had to worry about.
She was tired of being the problem that needed solving.