CHAPTER TWO HUNDRED AND THIRTY – ROUGH DAYS

Charlotte trudged up the narrow staircase to her small flat, her body aching from another long shift at The Rusty Anchor. The flickering fluorescent light in the hallway cast an eerie glow on the peeling wallpaper. She fumbled with her keys, the weight of exhaustion settling heavily on her shoulders. As she pushed open the door, a white envelope on the floor caught her eye. Frowning, she bent down to pick it up, her heart sinking as she recognized her landlord's messy scrawl. She tore it open, her eyes scanning the contents. "You've got to be kidding me," she muttered, collapsing onto her threadbare sofa. The springs creaked in protest. Just then, her phone buzzed. Richard's name flashed on the screen. "Hey," she answered, trying to keep the weariness from her voice. "Charlotte, you sound terrible. Rough day?" She sighed, glancing at the letter in her hand. "You could say that. My landlord just raised the rent. Again." "What? That's the second time this year!" Richard's indignat