SHAMELESS

The Gallagher house hums with its own unique noise, as if the house itself were held up not by beams but by nerves and stubbornness.

Fiona stands at the desk, clutching a stack of papers in her fingers as if the strength of her grip could determine whether the power would be cut off tomorrow. Her expression is worn thin, deeper than the wrinkles: she's already weighed every option, and none of them offer her a chance of making it to the end of the week. Lip sits on the couch, absentmindedly leafing through a college brochure, but his gaze is empty—he's not reading, just searching for a spot to stare at, something to distract him from the fact that there's no money and yet there's still hope. Veronica is rattling dishes in the kitchen—she came in uninvited, as always, and is now running the show, grumbling about the broken faucet and how the refrigerator is once again "as empty as Frank's soul." Karl and Debbie stand in the middle of the living room, arguing so fiercely, as if fate itself were at stake: he wants to escape, she wants to keep him in place, and their cries are so full of fear that they sound louder than the words themselves. Liam sits in the corner by the window, where a strip of light falls evenly on the floor. Frank is gone—he's where he always feels most at ease: where they pour him a drink and don't ask questions. Monica seems to have completely vanished into the city, like a ghost remembered only when the going gets tough.

The silence, already strained to breaking point, is broken by a sharp knock on the door—not polite, but the kind you hear when you're tired of waiting. Fiona shudders, as if another thread of patience has been yanked from her, and walks to the door. She glances briefly at Liam on the way.

Fiona opens the door and freezes for a second, as if she can't believe her eyes.