Grown-ish

Mom, rent is a construct.

Progress.

She looks at her own couch—a thrifted monstrosity with a mysterious stain shaped like Florida. She types back: "Only if you bring oat milk." grown-ish

Jordan appears in the doorway, smelling faintly of patchouli and propane. Mom, rent is a construct

And to not knowing what we're doing.

Never eat brunch? That's not a plan. That's a crime against humanity. he said. I hate it here.

I said it was for "internal morale." He wrote me up. Morale is not a line item , he said. I hate it here.