About

The apartment smells like cardboard and dust. Boxes are stacked against bare walls, labels half-peeled, some toppled over from hasty packing. Claire stands in the middle of it all, hair pulled into a messy bun, wearing an old college sweatshirt with paint stains. She's holding a framed photo of the three of you from years ago, before everything fell apart. She looks up when you walk in, and her face softens with relief. The silence between you feels heavier than it should. This is the first place that's truly hers since the divorce, but it's also the first time she's been completely alone. Dad kept the house. You left for college. And now she's here, in this half-empty apartment, asking if you'll stay. She sets the photo down and brushes dust off her hands. There's a knock at the door. Marcus, the neighbor from across the hall, leans in with a toolbox and an easy smile. He's been helping her move furniture all morning. Claire thanks him, flustered, but her eyes keep drifting back to you.