SHE had lost another job.
This should not keep happening to her, not with a name like Prudence. Prue sighed, tucked out the limp pillow from underneath her bum and stared about the only room of her one bedroom apartment before she tossed the pillow to the other end of the bed.
She called it her bare-necessities room. It had a necessary mattress on the floor, by a window that had a necessary chiffon drape over it. There was a necessary vinyl flooring sheet over the cement floor that had more holes than a battered highway. Then two necessary plastic chairs—for when she had visitors and didn’t want them sitting on the bed. Necessary clothes, necessary shoes and a necessary kitchen unit further narrowing the corridor that led to an even narrower veranda.
The rent on that one room was due too.
How was she going to manage another six months rent on her severance pay? She picked her cell-phone and tried her aunt’s line again. It was still unavailable.