Member-only story
It's a stupid story, but is it true?
In a small, dimly lit garage, Andrew sat on a worn-out couch, lighting another joint. The acrid smell of marijuana filled the air, creating a thick haze that seemed to mirror the confusion and regret in his mind. It was late at night, and the world outside was silent, wrapped in the stillness of midnight. This was Andrew’s sanctuary, the only place where he felt he could escape from the weight of his own failures, even if only for a few hours.
Inside the house, Mariame was exhausted. She had just finished tending to her father, ensuring he was comfortable for the night. The long days of caregiving had taken a toll on her, and she barely had the energy to drag herself to bed. Her body ached, and her mind was a fog of worry and fatigue. She knew that Andrew was outside, smoking again, but she was too tired to care. All she wanted was a few hours of uninterrupted sleep.
But peace was a luxury Mariame could not afford. Around 11 PM, just as she was drifting into a light sleep, the kitchen light flicked on, and she heard the unmistakable sounds of Andrew rummaging through the fridge. His late-night munchies were relentless, and they often kept the household awake for hours. Mariame groaned, pulling the pillow over her head in a futile attempt to block out the noise.
