A Room for Maya

The letter was on the floor when Maya came home at seven in the morning. It was from Mr. Novak, her landlord.

Dear tenant. From the first of April, the rent for your room is $950 a month. If you do not want to pay the new rent, please leave the room by March 31. Thank you. P. Novak.

Maya read it three times. She paid $700 now. It was already a lot of money for a small room with one window and a kitchen she shared with four other students. She could not pay $950. Not with her classes. Not with her night job.

She sat on her bed and looked at the calendar on the wall. It was March 17. Two weeks.

That night at the café, she made a mistake with every second order. She gave Luis green tea. She gave Nurse Priya a large coffee with three sugars.

"Maya," Priya said, and pushed the cup back gently. "I've had this drink every night since January. What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm sorry." Maya made a new green tea. Then she put her hands on the counter. "Actually, something is wrong. My landlord wants more rent. I have to find a new room in two weeks."