“I’m home,” I grumble, pulling from the man’s steel grip and shuffling inside, letting Linda and him discuss things on their own. She was probably gonna cry. She’s been doing it a lot lately, especially since my birthday.

I peek from my window out to the driveway, where the white detailed car stood. It was clean, excepting for the back seat where I threw up some of the pills I had taken earlier. I let the curtain fall, listening to the rigid badged man try to console the crying source.

Tender loving words find her, and I close my eyes, guilty. Peeking from the hall, I see him, the tall authoritarian, a married man, consoling a woman whose gentle tears and soft skin entice him. I look for his ring, watching as it shines in a similar light of her tears. Here comes the usual speech.

I’m not going to charge him, he wasn’t dealing, etc, etc, stay safe and be careful and don’t tell my wife. So on as he goes, and I know from experience that he’s glancing at his car, a picture of his wife and son in the glove compartment, smiling yet hidden in the dark, as they are of his secret. He kisses her, Linda, my adoptive aunt, and she nods against him, closing the door once he leaves.

She turns to the kitchen, taking a long drag from a grey sleek device, wrinkles forming on her forehead, around her mouth and chin. She was ageing considerably, despite her birth age.

I run the shower, not wanting to face her quite yet, giving her a chance to relax.

She knocks, once, twice, three times. I open the door, an old robe I’ve had forever wrapped around my still sudded body. She gives a small smile, crows feet forming at the corners of her emerald eyes. We had matching eyes, her and I. She used to joke that's why she adopted me.

Despite the fact she found me left at her job. She was a nurse, before me.

“I was thinking we could binge that show you like.” She mumbles, tucking a strand of frizzy blonde hair behind her ear. I pretend not to notice the streaks of gray.

I don’t say anything, just nod, shutting the door behind me and drying off, the bubbles rubbed into my skin. I wonder if they’ll return in the rain, or if it just washes off without worry.

~

It was raining outside when we sat on the couch, popcorn and lukewarm sodas in hand, huddle by our laptop, as our TV thought of Netflix as a fool. She eagerly types in the show, something or other about zombies getting visions when they eat brains. I just liked watching the druggie parts. It was interesting to me. It was going fine, small talk and all, until her soft voice began to take a serious tone.

“Sheriff n I were talkin bout you.” She says, fidgeting with her now braided hair, biting her lip as she did so. I don’t say nothing, listening for what she might say next.

“He wants to take you on a trip, you and Vio.” What.

“Why would he do that, he has a son?” I ask, not bothering with a cool facade as I had been too invested in what the hell-

She pauses the show, a white-haired red-eyed zombie cooking up some grilled cheese brain stuck on screen. She had a promise ring, from the sheriff, small and silver with a blue-green stone I couldn’t name if I tried. She took that ring now, with the odd stone, and shifted it around on her finger, nervous and hesitant.

“They’re getting a divorce. His wife and him. She don’t want him to see the kid. He had planned the trip, said he don’t mind the extra kid either-” She said this all oddly calm, with a tone that felt as if she had rehearsed a hundred times over.

“I got school.” I put simply as if it ever had stopped me before.

“Winter break.” She mumbles. And I don’t say anything, tapping the spacebar to unpause the show.