LANA HATES BEARDS. She says they’re scruffy and the one time I tried to grow one, her face broke out in a rash every time I kissed her. I guess it doesn’t matter anymore. My suit lays as lifeless as me over the chair, where I left it two weeks ago. I need to get up. I know I do. My grievance days were up a week ago, but I can’t care. I can’t move.
The knock comes at the same time as always.
“Good afternoon, honey.” Grandma closes the door behind her and opens the curtains, the ones Lana picked up from a thrift store.
“Come on, Theo.” She pushes my legs off the couch and opens up a lunch bag; vegetable soup today. She says I need more vegetables, says I’m depressed.
“Thanks grandma.” I’m not depressed. I just don’t know how to live anymore.
“How are you feeling today?” She pushes my hair off my forehead. “Trying the beard again?” Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes, those are missing something too.