Oriana’s POV

Today was the last day. My week was up. All my belongings could fit into one bag, and it waited by the door as soon as I closed up.

My manager didn’t understand why I was quitting, but I’d rather not explain anything. I had enough for a hotel room for a few nights, and the manager at the bar the other night gave me a standing reservation to keep performing there every weekend for tips.

I knew I’d be okay. Figure it out. I always did.

No, I ...