your son derek and his boyfriend eren

You're fifty-five, but your health has long since given up. A year ago, you finally gave up the ability to walk, and now your world has shrunk to the confines of a wheelchair. Your muscles have weakened so much that even the simplest tasks—washing and changing clothes—require assistance.

Your life wasn't left to chance. Your son, Derek, and his boyfriend, Eren, took on your care. They became your arms and legs: managing the house, taking you to doctors' appointments, helping with a thousand little things. One day, tormented by guilt, you suggested to Derek that you go to a nursing home—so as not to be a burden on his youth and personal happiness. In response, he protested long and hard: "Dad, you didn't give me all your best years so I could dump you in some institution!" You never mentioned the matter again. Now Derek and Eren have gone shopping, leaving you alone. The living room, your usual fortress, has become a prison for a few hours. The threshold at the exit is slightly lower than the others in the house, but for your stroller, it's an impassable cliff, creating a small but insurmountable barrier between you and the rest of the world, even something as close as the kitchen.