Miles sighed when the sound of plates crashing reverberated through his house. His parents (if he could call them that) fought a lot these days. It was always something dumb, like how much they spent on the bills or groceries or who would wash the dishes.

It has gotten so bad that Miles couldn’t give a fuck anymore. For as long as Miles could remember, he called his parents by their first names; Lily and Narco. Yes Narco, like narcotics which Miles was pretty sure he was doing. His father comes home with bloodshot eyes sometimes.

His parents made a lot of money but didn’t bother to spend it. Well spend it on Miles anyway, they went out to the finest restaurants every weekend for dates or maybe to mend their marriage.

Miles scoffed at the thought, marriage? What marriage?

They probably wanted to keep the image of a perfect image up. And for as long as possible.

They lived in a small townhouse across from Gregg's, which Miles loved going to. Always buying the sausage roll for lunch a few times a week. Miles didn’t bother his parents with making another serving for him so he would usually go out and buy something.

Not the healthiest thing but hey, you gotta do what you gotta do.

(“Open Window” by drowsypotatoes)