Priscilla Ramos

I’m a landlord. It’s a tough business. I had a tenant, Mr. Alvarez. Never late on rent for 5 years. Then, the checks stopped. I went to his apartment. He didn’t open the door. I used my key. The apartment was empty. No furniture. Just a mattress on the floor and Mr. Alvarez sitting on it. “I’m sorry,” he said, looking down. “My wife got sick. The medication… I sold everything. I’ll leave today.” I looked at the empty room. I went to my truck. I grabbed my tools. “I’m not kicking you out,” I said. “But I am raising the rent.” He looked terrified. “I’m raising it to $0 for the next six months.” He started to cry. “And,” I added, “I’ve got an extra sofa in storage. And a table. Let’s get this place looking like a home again.” That was three years ago. His wife recovered. He’s back on his feet. He insists on paying me double rent now to "pay back the debt." I put the extra money into a fund for other tenants who struggle. A roof over someone’s head is a business. Keeping a roof over their head when they’re drowning? That’s a duty. Anonymous participant