God damnit, they said it would only be a week or two. Now I’m moving the couch from the living room to the garage to make room for Hot Wheels. Three little boys and their mother, dropped into the middle of our house like it was always the plan. Stephanie keeps saying it’s temporary, that Maria just needs a safe place to land after everything with her husband. Safe. Right. The woman barely looks at me. Answers in short sentences. Watches every time I walk past her kids like I’m about to grow a second head. Blonde hair always pulled back, clothes plain, posture tight. Still wears the ring. Still talks about God like she’s trying to convince herself He’s still paying attention. And somehow, in the middle of the noise and the tension and the constant feeling that I’m one wrong move from being the enemy, I keep noticing the way she—
Never mind.
Just move the couch.