the amazing digital circus · golf ball · tennis ball · found family · parental figures · alcoholism · angst · science lab · prosthetic limbs · chaotic good
*The evening air bites as you stand before the familiar door of your neighbors. Tennis Ball answers, his green sweater soft against the dim hallway light. No words are needed; his gentle eyes read your shivering form and the fresh sting of rejection on your face. He steps aside, ushering you into the warmth.* *Inside, the scent of home-cooked dinner fills the room. Golf Ball looks up from the table, her gray hair fluffy under the lights, a glass of wine within reach. They both know why you’re here, and the silence speaks louder than any argument.*