"Don't tell your father", my mother uttered.

I sat across from her in our small living room. The yellow wallpaper felt cold. The most painful sentence of my life had just fallen from my mouth, and my mother wasn't looking at me anymore.

"If you wish to confess, Father Laurent would be delighted to see you", she added, getting up. She walked briskly to the kitchen, opening the fridge. "I think we'll eat steak tonight."

That's when it all started to go to shit. I don't eat steak anymore.

Once upon a time.

In a better world, I'd have been taking a soothing bath after a hard day working on my thesis. But that evening, I struggled to do maths after breaking my back at work. My shaking fingers were taping on my smartphone.

"Fucking banking app!" I yelled.

I let my Samsung go. Crossing my arms, I buried my face, pieces of paper falling on the floor. Even if I kept recalculating, again and again, in every way imaginable, that small screen's sentence was without appeal: With rent and electricity going up, I was about to lose my flat. Having to choose between food and a roof above my head - even though I had a stable job - was absurd. That was my absurd reality, though. Despite Custom Housing Assistance and Activity Bonus, despite all the ways I was already restricting myself, shit was hitting the fan. "France, the country of Human Rights," my ass.

Breathing in and out as slowly as possible, I tried to regroup. I had multiple options. I could find a roommate. I could pay my debts and move to an unsanitary studio flat... Or I could call my parents.

Calling my parents was out of the question. They wouldn't have answered anyway. Probably. And why would I want to rekindle that relationship anyways? I must have been quite desperate for this thought to cross my mind. No, I couldn't do that.

I could try and find an even smaller flat. But paying my debts... I straightened and looked at my phone again. I couldn't find that sum before being thrown out. Even if a miracle happened, I wouldn't have enough left for the down payment on a new place!

It only left the last option.

I got up and walked to the window. The sky was pitch black, the moon hidden behind a thick curtain of clouds. Medieval buildings leaned on each other, their slate roofs and grey stone walls covered in moss. Most people were home now, and the crooked windows bathed in artificial light. A few party-goers, drunk as fuck, tried not to slip on the uneven cobblestone of the street down below. I lived in the Rue de la Soif*. Downstairs, pubs proliferated. Small tables took up all the room, and you had to walk in the middle of the street. Sometimes, you would sit down, thinking you would drink from one pub, only to realise the wrong server was taking your order. No car had passed that street in ten years. People dared each other to drink a pint in all thirty of them pubs. Most failed. None seemed to mind.

I opened the window and let the music, screams, and laughs slap me. Grabbing onto the iron railing, I closed my eyes. Did I want to live with someone else? In theory, I could. My office could become a second bedroom. Not a big one, but it could work. The bathroom was minuscule. I had decided to buy a gas stove and oven, so I only had room for a mini-fridge. But was it that important? Shortly, a lot more people would be willing to share a flat. And some could be okay with all that.

Did I want to live with someone else?

I turned my back to the window to let my eyes brush over my place. The old wooden floor smelled of beeswax. All my furniture was either oak or walnut. From the round table to the gigantic buffet. In front of my TV, a small grey couch covered in green and yellow pillows. I had so many plants I could've opened a store. I loved having my space. It was my haven. I had chosen and bought everything with care. It was all mismatched, old and crumbling. It was home.

"I want to survive," I whispered to the rising darkness.

I grabbed the matchbox next to the TV and lit a few candles. My lungs filled with roses and violets. It was time to fight.

Hi guys! Looking for a roomie here! You'd have your bedroom in a cosy flat near all subways and buses. It's a fifteen minutes walk from all major stores and historical locations.

Must be LGBTQ-friendly. DMs opened~

After posting, I lay on my bed for a long time. I wasn't hungry or tired. I was nothing. Tomorrow was Sales Day at work. Tomorrow was also French Fries Day at the charity. Tomorrow was another day.

In a better world, I'd have been worried about my grades and dating life. But that evening, I struggled to fall asleep and wondered if it was all worth it.

*Literally "Thirst Road" in French.