It used to be my bedroom.
He was laying on the opened up couch bed telling me about his father, and how just when he'd started to get to know him, grandpa had died.
Then he said he didn't want that to happen to us.
I said it wouldn't.
He said he didn't think he'd be around much longer.
I pshawed him. The conversation wound down, and he dozed on the couch bed while I fixed his computer.
Fuck. Why did this have to come back to me right now.