“I have a lot of time on my hands so I have nothing else to do besides clean up.” Zayden explained once he saw me looking around the room with a shocked face.
He walked into a small room that had graffiti on the walls.
“I also did this myself.” he told me pointing to the graffiti.
It was so beautiful. The variety of colors and the many little artworks all pushed into one was breathtaking. In the corner of the room lay big buckets of spray paint. While I was busy admiring the art he had made, he had grabbed a bag and started tossing this and that into it. After he was done it was all lumpy and was as heavy as a bag of rocks.
“Ready to go Zayden?”
“Almost just one more thing.”
He walked out of the graffiti room and into the room with the light blue wallpaper. He walked towards the bed and grabbed a piece of paper. He then wrote something I couldn't see and sat it down on the pillow.
As we walked out of the building we started asking questions about each other. I wanted to know how someone can live a life without lying about your family secret. I wanted to know more about a normal life. I wanted to know how he ended up living in that building.

"That day my mother died, my father wasn't the same. He would get up way earlier to get to work. He would never talk or even glance in my direction. He would cook dinner and knock on my door and then leave. He would barely notice me around the house. I think it was because he blamed me. I think that it was my fault that she died."