text: Amelia leaned up against the taxi and stared as the sheriff and repossession team emptied her home and memories onto the front lawn. Her father was fighting back tears, as he pleaded and begged the officer for another chance or more time; the alcohol on his breath disgusted the sheriff, but even he didn’t lack the empathy to arrest a man who had already been so thoroughly embarrassed in front of his family. Amelia’s mother stood with her back to the whole ordeal, chain-smoking cigarettes and massaging her temples with the free hand. The next thing her father slurred was what set Amelia off. “[...]if you’re gonna’ jusht throw us on the st-street like a bunch of bums, at least... at least look at my fuckin’ daughter in-in the eyes.” He pointed at her from across the lawn, but the sheriff only glanced at her and back to the belligerent man who was sending spit in every direction. Meanwhile, Amelia’s jaw was dropping at the nerve it took to use her as a prop, regardless of her father’s shaky history. She felt like storming towards the useless man and screaming every infuriated thought that entered her head, but it was no use; he’d already spent on alcohol what he hadn’t on gambling, and she had already spent every emotion she ever felt. So, she stood there, as hollow her house was. As a repo man carried out the stuffed dog that had sat in the corner of her room since she could walk, she looked back at her mother and felt the urge to ask for a cigarette.