It was another oppressively hot day in the city and the humidity was suffocating. Amahle, who was born and raised in this very neighborhood, had seen it all. The dilapidated houses, the struggling businesses, the ever-present drug dealers on every street corner.
But what she couldn’t get used to, no matter how long she lived here, was the way that some people seemed to have everything while others had nothing at all.
She went to get her mail and saw that a letter had been sent to her house on behalf of the bank, and inside was an ominous notice that her home was being seized. She didn’t know what to do; she’d always paid her mortgage on time, and never missed a payment.
The only thing she could think of was that it must have been a mistake. She quickly called the bank, but they told her there was nothing they could do; the decision had been made by their corporate headquarters and there wasn’t anything they could do about it.