from beneath my bed.
And started packing.
No announcement.
No dramatic speech.
No slammed doors.
I carefully folded my work clothes.
Shoes.
Toiletries.
My laptop.
Then I unlocked the desk drawer containing my passport, birth certificate, Social Security card, employment records, and tax documents.
Finally, I pulled an envelope from beneath my mattress.
My emergency fund.
$8,740.
It wasn’t a fortune.
But it was mine.
At 11:43 that night, while Mom, Dad, and Madison ate takeout downstairs, I left my spare house key on my pillow.
Madison was
