That night it was Interstellar. Again. Nobody really minded. It was better than scrolling through Netflix for an hour, and Mom had made pasta bolognese and garlic bread, so I carried the bowls in from the kitchen in two trips, three first and then another two.
My eyes stayed shut, knowing there was no point in them either. A day had gone by, and I had done nothing again. I shift, turning to lay on my side until I curl into myself.