The room seemed to close in around that sentence. I noticed things I hadn’t at first—the stack of unopened bills, the eviction notice partially hidden but not quite out of sight, the way everything in the apartment felt temporary, like it was all balancing on the edge of collapse. This wasn’t just a medical situation. It was everything else crashing in at the same time.
“Why didn’t you call someone?” I asked.
He looked away, his voice dropping to almost nothing.
“Because no one comes.”
That answer stayed in the air longer than anything else that night, heavier than the noise that had brought me there in the first place. I looked down at my phone again, still unlocked, still one tap away from doing what I had been so sure was the right thing just minutes ago. It should have been simple—call for help, let professionals handle it, step back. That was the safe choice. The logical one. But standing there, looking at him, it didn’t feel that simple anymore.
