George narrowed his eyes. “When I say people, I meanhumans.”
He shoved a piece of paper across the counter towards me. I recognized it as the tenancy contract I signed when I first moved in. There was a specific line highlighted—the section about species. It asked if I was human or shifter, and if the latter, to specify what animal. I’d written everything down, because why not? I was proud of who I was, and I thought it was great to have many kinds of people living together.
I blinked down at the paper, then back at George. He met my questioning expression with a flat-out glare.
That was weird. Nobody had ever been so blatantly shifter-phobic to my face before.
“Huh,” I said, scratching my head. “It’s kinda strange that they heard a dog in my apartment while I was on vacation, though. Since I wasn’t home and all.”
George’s grouchy expression made it clear he didn’t care. “Since you can afford a vacation, you can afford to live somewhere else.”
“Er, well, actually, someone else paid for the—”
He interrupted me. “Andyou can afford to find another place to stay tonight. Your belongings are already outside.” He jabbed a finger at the counter. “Your key.”
There was no room for argument. I deflated as I placed the key in front of him. He snatched it, then proceeded to ignore me. That was worse than glaring.
“Well, see you,” I said as I turned to leave. He didn’t respond as the door shut behind me. “Or not.”
* * *
The deep blueevening sky greeted me as I walked out into the apartment parking lot. George was right about my belongings—they were shoved haphazardly into cardboard boxes on the curb. Man, it was a good thing I didn’t own too much stuff. I was able to cram most of it in my bag or luggage. I left big items like my old couch behind, hoping somebody else could benefit from it.
Once that was done, I had no clue what to do. I sat down on the curb and tilted my head back. A few bright dots sparkled overhead, but the city sky paled in comparison to the sea of stars that lit up the sky on Chromatimaeus Island.
I couldn’t help but smile thinking about it. The beauty of that place was unforgettable. I felt so lucky to visit there not once but twice—and to even be invited for a third time. If I closed my eyes, I could still smell the salty ocean breeze, and feel the warm grains of sand between my paw pads...
I shook off a shiver. The memory was so intense, I almost felt a shift coming on, but transforming into my jackal form in front of my shifter-phobic apartment building probably wasn’t a great idea.
Well, ex-apartment building now. Did that make me officially homeless?
I stood up and brushed myself off. There was no point in dwelling on it. I checked my phone, which still had juice.
“Better figure out a place to charge this,” I said out loud. Maybe at my workplace? I could store my stuff in my locker, too.
Just as I got up, my phone buzzed. I smiled when I saw Poppy’s name on the screen.
“Yo, Pops!” I greeted.
“Hi, Muzo,” Poppy said gently. Back when we first met, he stammered when greeting me, but he’d gained a lot more confidence since then.
“What’s up?” I asked.
I heard a rustling sound on the other end, followed by thepopof a food container lid. “Um, I baked a bunch of cookies tonight. Double chocolate.”
I gasped. He knew they were my favorite. That was one of the perks of being a shifter. Chocolate made my canine side sick, but my human form could eat as much as my heart desired.
“I haven’t left the house all day,” Poppy mentioned. “So I thought I could bring them over to you. If you want?”
Of course I wanted. It was sweet that he always asked anyway. I sucked in a breath, eagerly about to tell him to come on over, but then I remembered the fact that I didn’t actually live here. Or anywhere.
“Uh,” I said.
My brain farted. It was rare that I was at a loss for words. What could I say to him? Not the truth. He lived in a state of constant anxiety—telling him I was homeless might give him a panic attack.
“I... I’m actually out right now,” I finished.
“Oh,” Poppy murmured. He went quiet for a while, like he didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t blame him—I’d never, ever refused one of Poppy’s cookie runs before. “Um...”
