A sound came from the other room—a weak cough, deep and rattling. Victor took a step forward, then stopped. He was used to illness, to hardship, but always at a distance. Always as a line item.

“I’m here for the rent,” he said, hating the words as they left his mouth.

The girl nodded once. She slid a small envelope across the table with shaking hands. “It’s all there. I counted three times.”