I responded with a smile each time, exchanging a few casual words, keeping my tone natural.
Sheena followed half a step behind me, listening to these lively, everyday conversations. The confusion on her face grew heavier with each word.
"You know them well?" she couldn't help but ask.
"Yeah. After I got out, I had nowhere to go, no money. So I rented a small loft up here," I said casually.
"I've been living here for over a year, so the neighbors all know me," I said as we walked.
"Duke, the electrician, is really helpful—he's fixed my leaking roof multiple times."
"Granny Lyn, who sells soy milk, always saves me a bowl in the morning. She says young people shouldn't skip breakfast, or it'll hurt their stomachs."
"Joseph, who runs the grocery store—when my car broke down at the beginning, he rode his tricycle all the way to help me carry my tools back."
Sheena listened silently, her lips pressed tighter with each sentence.
Her eyes roamed over the weathered walls, the narrow alleyways, the ordinary clothes hung out to dry.
Finally, they returned to my gray jacket, faded from countless washes.
Every detail around us told a life completely different from the Charles she once knew.