The first thing I noticed were his shabby shoes. God, does he ever change them?

No.

I walked straight past him, not even acknowledging his presence. It wasn’t a condescending silence – it was more of a you-don’t-exist type of silence.

I opened the refrigerator, and reached inside its frigid gullet to collect the ingredients for my breakfast.

The toaster was soon puffing away, melting my cheese and ham into two pieces of bread; it wasn’t anything fancy, but my empty stomach was begging for anything.

“Did something happen?”

I forced myself not to jump at the sound of his voice.

“Your eyes are red.”

“Now you care,” I scoffed, and opened the toaster to reveal a golden morsel that my hunger-crazed eyes seemed to perceive as a glowing present from above.

“Have you been crying?”

“What if I was? What’s it to you?”

Silence blanketed the room heavily, and settled on my shoulders like a winter mantle.

I yanked my hot toast away onto a plate and tramped upstairs.

I have no reserves left for this.