Thomas lifted his eyes slowly, scanning the familiar street that suddenly felt unfamiliar and cold. He wanted to offer reassurance, direction, or at least the illusion of control, but honesty was all he had left.
“We keep moving,” he said quietly. “That is the only thing I know how to do.”
The bank had taken the house after years of medical bills and loans signed in desperation rather than wisdom. That loss hurt deeply, but it was understandable. What truly shattered Helen was their children.
Their eldest son Mark had sighed impatiently over the phone. “I cannot deal with this right now,” he had said. “You should have planned better.”
Their daughter Denise had been colder, her voice distant and clipped. “This is not something I can take responsibility for.”
The youngest, Julian, never answered at all. Calls rang endlessly. Messages remained unread. Silence became the loudest response.