The familiar scent of stale beer and old cigarettes clung to the air the moment Maisse stepped through the door. It was a smell that had haunted her childhood, an invisible shroud that had settled over their small, neglected home. The sun, once a fierce eye in the mid-morning sky, was beginning its descent, casting long, distorted shadows across the worn linoleum floor. Her shoulders ached from the long commute into the city and back, her feet throbbing inside her sensible, if slightly scuffed, flats. Her legs were tired from walking and, hope, a fragile thing she had held on to for long, was slowly giving way to a gnawing despair. "Maisse! Is that you?" Her father's voice, thick and slurred, boomed from the living room. It was less a question and more an announcement of her presence, an acknowledgment that she had returned to his orbit. She took a deep breath, steeling herself. "Yes, Father. I'm back." She walked into the living room, her eyes scanning the familiar chaos: overflowi
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