ALEX
Zander doesn’t have a bed. He sleeps on a thick mattress in one room’s corner.
I still can’t wrap my head around it. Nothing much has changed from when we first moved to Bangkok. I spent the first week with him because I requested a minor renovation for my apartment. But that was over a year ago. I’ve decorated my place with fairy lights and custom shelves, and I moved the furniture around five times since then. Yet Zander still doesn’t have a bed.
At least there’s some semblance of personality now, no matter how little. There’s a vinyl record player beside the TV, a tower of CDs in a rack next to it. Mounted on the wall by the windows is his first guitar, the one Ma gifted to him on our sixteenth birthday. But there’s still so much space left. There’s a space in front of the TV fo
