Mom drove slowly through the heart of town, finally turning into a quiet residential neighborhood. Every house looked nearly identical—small, square-shaped homes lined up neatly, a practical solution to fit as many families as possible in the limited space.
“It’s not as big as our old place,” Mom said with a sheepish grin, glancing at me as if seeking reassurance. “But it’s the best I could get on short notice. The landlord knew my dad.”
“It’s fine,” I chuckled softly, though my attention drifted to the peeling pink paint on the front porch. Blue let out a soft whine in my mind, recognizing the imperfections as well. That porch would need to be fixed.
Mom pulled up to the curb, parking in front of the house, then popped the trunk open. She grabbed as many bags as her arms could carry, w
