He stood in the warm glow of the entryway, dressed in loose loungewear.
I was wearing the blue vest from the delivery app, mud splattered up the legs of my pants from riding a scooter through puddles.
"You spilled the medicine."
He didn't say my name. His voice was flat. Distant.
"If you can't afford to replace the carpet, fine. Just clean it up."
"You don't recognize me?"
I could hear my own voice shaking.
"I'm Denise. Denise Henson."
He didn't even lift his eyes.
"Don't know you."
Behind him, the sound of slippers padding across hardwood. A woman emerged from the inner room, belly round and heavy with pregnancy.
She slipped her arm through Oswald's, casual and possessive.
"Oswald, why haven't you brought my supplements in yet?"
Her gaze drifted past his shoulder and landed on me, standing in the doorway like something the rain dragged in.
"Who's this?"
"The delivery girl. She spilled the medicine."
"Oh."
The woman drew the word out, her eyes sliding over me from head to toe. Her nose wrinkled in disgust.
"Well, make her clean it up then. She got my carpet dirty. There's a rag by the washing machine on the balcony."
She was ordering me around. Like hired help.