EVICTION NOTICE

"Does a contract mean nothing to you people?" I screamed. "You signed! We signed! We gave you a deposit!" 

"Anna, please. Calm down," Caitlin said. "You're foaming at the mouth."

Ok, so that didn't really happen, but it could have. 

A couple of days ago, a real estate agent brought by a small group of people to see the apartment. I was puzzled when he handed me his business card with a flourish and said, "If you need an apartment anytime soon." 

I really should have known.

Yesterday our landlord called me to ask when he could pop by to "talk about the apartment." He waltzed in just after nine in the evening, wearing a snappy tweed suit. He declined the cup of peppermint tea I offered him. 

"This will only take two minutes," he said, sitting down. He tugged at his pants to lift them just above his ankles.

"Listen, Anna, I need a lot of money for my business soon, so I need to sell the apartment by the end of the month."

He promised to find us a new place and was gone in a flash.

Good bye Nile views. Good bye Metro Market. Good bye Yassin. Good bye big windows. Good bye king sized bed. Good bye friendly neighbors. Good bye internet connection. Good bye embroidered pastoral scenes.