also a son watching his mother disappear.
Both things were true.
The complaint dealt with one.
Compassion dealt with the other.
Those truths never needed to cancel each other out.
The new cushion still doesn’t perfectly match my chair.
I think I prefer it that way.
Daniel never did replace the towel.
That’s all right.
Some things are worth writing off.
The important things—
my balcony,
my mornings,
and the life I carefully built in a building I still choose to call home—
those I kept.
That was always the point.
