this morning #483.

this morning, the truth about the roof above his head was that it was built with buckets of blood money. he tried to remain sanguine about it though. it wasn’t as if he was the one who’d committed the out-and-out crimes that kept him housed. he’d just ended up in a relationship with the man who had. his friends had tried to warn him. sure, there were definite perks to the arrangement. sure, initially the advantages had outweighed out the guilt. it would’ve stayed that way if not for an exposé that also exposed just how much he’d employed ignorance in pursuit of bliss. it was clear that he had to remove himself from the situation no matter how much he’d miss the accommodations.