Alone.
Cold.
I nod mechanically, the weight of it crushing down on my already burdened shoulders. No dramatic tears come—I’m too empty for that—just that same leaden heaviness that’s been suffocating me all day, now doubled. No, tripled.
Another person gone.
Another light extinguished.
Another safe harbor destroyed.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my voice raw as I fight the burning behind my eyes.
Mari squeezes my hands until it almost hurts. “You carry too much,” she says, her accent thickening with emotion. “I shouldn’t add to your burden. I’m sorry.”
“I’m fine,” I lie, the words tasting like ash. “You’re my friend, Mari. When you hurt, I hurt. And Frank…he was such a sweet and kind man. He made this cruel world gentler and happier just by existing in it. Will there be funeral arrangements?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t think so. He didn’t have any family left here. He and his wife never had any kids.”
“What about his things?” I ask, voice tight. “His apartment?”
“The landlord said they’ll clear it out if no one claims anything,” Mari says, her eyes filling with fresh tears. “All those memories, all those little treasures he collected…just tossed away like garbage.”
The word strikes me like a physical blow.
Garbage.
Tossed away like the chipped teacups I rescue.
Like the people at the food pantry I couldn’t help today.
Like me, with three weeks to find a new home.
“That’s not right,” I whisper, my voice cracking. “Everyone deserves to be remembered.”
I stare at the worn floorboards of the shop, at the dust motes dancing in the afternoon light. Frank had been a fixture in this neighborhood for decades. The thought of him dying alone, with no one to mark his passing, crushes something inside my soul.
What if that was me?
Would anyone know if something happened to me?
Would anyone remember me?
“Maybe we could do something,” I suggest. “Not a funeral exactly, but…something. A gathering at the shelter? He loved that place.”
Mari’s eyes soften. “That’s a beautiful idea, Sutton.” She squeezes my hands once more before releasing them. “I’ll talk to Director Reynolds tomorrow.”
I nod, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. “Let me know what I can do to help.”
She studies my face. “Why do you look like you’re carrying the weight of the world today? Did something happen?”
For a moment, I consider lying, saying it’s just Frank, just the food pantry, just the usual struggle. But this is Mari. She sees through my bullshit like it’s made of glass.
“I got evicted today,” I blurt out, the words escaping before I can stop them.
Mari’s eyes widen and she squeezes my hands even tighter. “What?”
“My whole apartment building was sold,” I explain, my voice hollow. “Everyone has to be out by the end of the month.”
