Lease I had expected to find my landlady at the front desk. Her bright red perm a beacon in the building lobby. Instead it was her dark haired daughter behind the desk. She had her head down, busy with something I couldn’t see. “Moira!” I called as I walked over. I tried not to fidget too much with the sleeves of my shirt. Part of me wanted to bolt back upstairs, back into my bedroom, find something to cover my arms further. Arm warmers or fingerless gloves. I didn’t. “It’s been a while!” The woman jumped, looking up to smile at me. “Theresa Navarro!” she said with a wide grin. “It has been a while. How is your sister?” “Doing great,” I said. Moira was one of Abby’s friends. Her first client when she was a new lawyer, fresh out of law school. Moira had married a real piece of work. He had cheated on her and when she called for divorce he flipped on her. Claiming she was abusive and neglectful toward their kids. Near the end of the proceedings, when she had sought out Abby

Part One: Trust Sans looked between the paper in his hand and his human "owner" as she rushed down the hallway. He couldn't believe that this wasn't some sort of cruel prank. With every step he expected her to stop, turn around, order him to come with her. To take away the small taste of freedom she had given him. She would come up with some excuse to justify it. Explain everything away like she had done this morning. "I can't trust you here alone." She wasn't done playing around with him. "It's too much of a risk." She wouldn't let him out of her control. "I'll lose my lease." She was going to change her mind. She didn't. He pulled the apartment door closed as Terra reached the stairwell. The soft click of the bolt sliding home resounded in his skull with finality. She had actually left him alone. Sans let out a nervous chuckle as he leaned against the door, overwhelmed by emotion. He was shaking, his bones rattling against one another. Relief. Skepticism. Hope. The

My ‘favorite’ thrift store was about the same distance from my apartment as Solar’s. In the opposite direction. It wasn’t the best. It received all the rejects from its sister store downtown. Everything was a little more out of date, a little uglier, a little more worn and broken down. It was my favorite only because it was the only thrift store within walking distance of my apartment. It was where I bought nearly everything, on the rare occasions I had money to spare. As Sans and I entered, I pulled out the cash I’d been holding on to, leafing through it to count how much remained. “Looks like you have … a hundred fifty to spend. Go wild,” I said as I slid the bills back into my bag. “I have?” Sans asked, head turned just enough to glance at me over his shoulder. “It’s the money from the asshole you were with before,” I said with a shrug as I grabbed a cart. “It’s yours, not mine. Only reason I’ve held onto it is because humans are jerks.” Monsters weren’t ‘allowed’ to have

I smacked the snooze button with a groan, silencing the blaring of my alarm. My migraine wasn’t gone. I forced myself into a sitting position, doing my best to ignore how my head pulsed in agony at the movement. Without looking I grabbed the bottle of pills from my nightstand. I took another of the migraine tablets, grimacing at the taste as it dissolved on my tongue. It tasted like a piece of chalk looked at a mint leaf once. A decade ago. Homeopathically minty. It was disgusting. I hated it, but it was better than being unable to function. I glanced at my phone, considering calling in sick, before sliding out of bed. I could make that decision after I ate something and moved around some. Let the medication actually kick in. Maybe it would be enough. I hoped it would be enough. I didn’t want to risk any of my managers being angry with me. I needed the jobs I had. I needed the money. I fumbled around in the dark, grabbing the nearest cleanish clothes I could find. Like