---

[Setting: Shayla’s apartment – cozy, slightly messy, with houseplants and art prints everywhere. Her best friend, Tiana, is visiting. Shayla’s in leggings and an oversized hoodie, sipping iced coffee.]

Tiana:

Girl, you look way too relaxed for someone about to open mail from their landlord.

Shayla:

Because it’s probably just another reminder about the “no incense” policy. 🙄 I swear, these people act like sandalwood is a biohazard.

Tiana:

Or maybe they’re finally giving you that rent reduction for dealing with the leaky ceiling?

Shayla: (ripping open the envelope)

Ugh. Dream big, right? Let’s see— [reads silently] Wait.

Tiana:

What?

Shayla:

No… no, no, no, no, no. This has to be a mistake.

Tiana:

Shayla, you’re scaring me. What does it say?

Shayla: (reading aloud, voice shaky)

“Notice of Non-Renewal of Lease. Effective November 30th, 2025. Please ensure the apartment is vacated and all keys returned by that date.”

Tiana:

…WHAT?! You’re getting kicked out?!

Shayla:

They said they’re “repurposing the unit for executive short-term rental options.” What does that even mean? Airbnb?!

Tiana:

They’re turning your home into a damn hotel room. That’s what that means.

Shayla:

I’ve lived here for four years! Through three property managers, one winter with no heat, and that mold situation in 2023! And now they’re just… shoving me out like trash?

Tiana:

Capitalism, babe. No loyalty, just profit. 😤

Shayla: (pacing)

I just put up new shelves. I was finally feeling settled. My grocery store knows me. My neighbors like me. I water old Mr. Greene’s plants when he’s out of town!

Tiana:

This is straight-up evil. You can’t fight it?

Shayla:

It says right here: “Per clause 14B of the lease, the landlord reserves the right not to renew without cause.” I signed that. I didn’t think they’d actually use it.

Tiana:

They always do when they smell more money.

Shayla: (sinks into the couch)

I don’t even know where to go. The rent out there is insane. Everywhere’s either a shoebox or a scam.

Tiana:

Okay, don’t spiral yet. We’ve got time. November 30th gives you like… what, six weeks?

Shayla:

That’s 42 days. Six weekends. 1,008 hours.

…I’m spiraling, aren’t I?

Tiana:

Hard. But listen—maybe this is the universe telling you something. Maybe there’s a better place waiting. Something bigger. Something without mold.

Shayla:

Or it’s the universe telling me to buy a tent and set up under a bridge.

Tiana:

Nope. We are not letting you get evicted and emotionally wrecked. We’re gonna apartment hunt, call every shady Craigslist number, make spreadsheets, bribe leasing agents with cookies if we have to.

Shayla: (sighs)

You’d really do that?

Tiana:

Girl, I’d go full Liam Neeson on these landlords if I could. “I will find you… and I will negotiate rent control.”

Shayla: (laughing through tears)

God, I hate this. But… I love you.

Tiana:

Love you too. Now put on pants—we’re starting the “Save Shayla’s Sanity” operation today. First stop: coffee. Second stop: Zillow hell.

Shayla:

Tiana. I just got a text.

Tiana (half-asleep):

Wha—Shayla? It’s midnight.

Shayla:

From an unknown number. It said: ‘You should start packing. They don’t give warnings twice.’

Tiana:

What?! Who sent that?

Shayla:

I don’t know. No name. Just… vibes. Creepy ones.

Tiana:

Okay, listen. Forward it to me. Screenshot everything. This isn’t just “they want to rent to tourists.” This feels… targeted.

---

[Next day – Shayla heads to the leasing office. The front desk girl, normally chatty, barely makes eye contact.]

Shayla:

Hey, I got this letter—non-renewal? Can I talk to someone about it?

Receptionist (quietly):

Ms. Monroe isn’t available. You’ll need to email the regional office.

Shayla:

Right, but can someone just explain why my apartment is suddenly being “repurposed”? That’s vague as hell.

Receptionist:

It’s out of my hands.

Shayla:

You’re seriously telling me no one can talk to me?

[Receptionist leans in, whispers under her breath.]

Receptionist:

You should… go. And not ask too many questions.

[Shayla stares, stunned. The receptionist quickly turns away, typing again.]

---

[That night – Shayla’s back home. She notices something strange: her living room window, normally jammed shut, is slightly open.]

Shayla (to herself):

I locked that.

[She walks over, pushes it closed. Notices faint muddy footprints near the sill on the inside.]

Shayla (whispering):

No. No way.

[Her phone buzzes again – another message from the unknown number.]

UNKNOWN:

“They were already inside. You just didn’t notice.”

---

[Shayla calls Tiana – voice trembling.]

Shayla:

Ti… I think someone’s been in my apartment.

Tiana:

What?! Are you okay? Call the cops!

Shayla:

There’s nothing missing. Nothing broken. Just… that window. And the texts.

Tiana:

Babe, this isn’t just a shady eviction. Something’s going on. You need to get out of there.

Shayla:

I can’t leave, Ti. I need to know why. Why now? Why me?

Tiana:

No apartment is worth this. They’re trying to push you out for a reason—and it’s not just rent.

---

[A few days later – Shayla finds an old maintenance report stuffed behind her bathroom cabinet. It’s water-damaged, but a few words stand out.]

March 2022 – UNIT 3B

Hazardous material found. Report filed. Contained (pending approval).

Shayla (to herself):

3B… That’s my unit. That’s me.

[She flips the paper over—there’s a handwritten note.]

“DO NOT RENEW. Quietly.”