He didn’t have a home, but he had loyalty.
He didn’t have family, but he had love. And somehow, in that corner under the neon light, they had each other—and that was enough.
Sometimes I still pass that laundromat, and though they’re no longer there, I remember the way that cat rested on his chest. The way he’d hold her close like she was proof that he still belonged somewhere.
It’s easy to think love requires comfort, money, or walls to live within—but the truth is simpler.
Love only needs two souls who refuse to give up on each other.
