"babe, i lived in a glorified shed." most days, they were lucky they had electricity or running water. wasn't until a couple years after parker was old enough to read and understand the bills on the table that she could figure out how to pay 'em and even then, squirreling the cash away to do so was a bitch and a half. 

parker stretches out her arms. fingertip to fingertip, they touch the walls, and she says, "becky, please. we told you we have the money. can the next one not be poopy garbage?"

maisey's panting by the time they've gotten there. it's a couple neighborhoods away, nestled on a fairly busy streetcorner, but there's a cafe around the corner that sells some boss ass donuts parker loves. a modest juliet balcony overlooks a small slice of backyard and the interior is definitely homier.

"mmm, close 'nough to your la-work. place. the workplace. where you work. look, nomes, the fridge has two doors."

Naomi Sato

☉

parker doesn't mind the fact that becky doesn't seem to give two shits about her input. it'll be nice, pretty womaning her when the time is right. nomi's putting a good chunk of change into the place, but parker's insisted a lot of it be hers. she's always wanted a house. 

always thought it was a pipe dream too. 

it has character to it. someone who cares about aesthetics lived here, for sure. the paint on the walls is a little scuffed; some of the plaster is worn down in places. but parker squeezes her way into any small crawl spaces to check for water damage or shoddy craftsmanship. 

"yeah, for cooking," parker says, every bit of it dripping with sarcasm, complete with a brow waggle. neither of them partake in the Devil's Lettuce, but it's fun to see becky look a little uncomfortable.

parker tromps up the stairs and then pokes her head back over the open air walkway. "becky, can ya watch maisey? haaates stairs and nomes, come look at this bathtub," she says, fiending by the door, waiting to snap her hand out to snatch nomi by the waist and yank her close. 

Naomi Sato

☉