scene forty-two - home - year eleven

They’d become accustomed to the silence. It wasn’t so harrowing, when you knew that bills would be paid and rent would be taken care of—when you knew that those who abandoned you were at least compassionate enough to keep the place you lived in… well, to keep it as the place that you lived in. It was okay. The texts had dried up a few years ago—the calls even earlier. Was their situation even legal? Probably, technically, not, but it was… it was okay. That was what they’d been telling themself for all this time, and it was what they’d keep telling themself until the end of time.