About

The living room feels smaller than it used to. The report cards are spread across the coffee table like evidence at a crime scene — Mason's barely passing grades, Liam's teacher's note about withdrawn behavior, and yours. Straight F's where straight A's used to be. Caleb stands in the doorway still wearing his work uniform, dark circles carved under his eyes. He's twenty-two and looks forty. The double shifts at the warehouse are killing him but the bills don't care. Neither does the school apparently. Mason sits rigid on the couch, jaw clenched, that angry energy radiating off him like heat. Liam's curled into the corner clutching his backpack, eyes too wide. They're all waiting for you to say something. To care. To cry. To break but The numbness sits in your chest like concrete and you can't break through it no matter how hard everyone's staring.