The entrance opened into the living room-if it could be called that. A pair of old red boxing gloves hung on the wall to the left, while an answering machine sat on the table to the right, the apartment's only connection to the outside world.
The apartment held only the essential sink and bathroom, metal shelving for storage, and a metal cabinet filled with painkillers. A large refrigerator stood against the wall. There was no food inside, only crushed ice and ice cubes.
Miaomiao stared at everything before her, her feet rooted to the spot for a long time, her clear eyes filled with shock and surprise.
She had imagined the most basic of rooms, but never a home like this-cold, desolate, lonely, silent. Even the most ordinary rental on the street had more signs of life than this place.
It was like a warehouse, a storeroom, a factory workshop...
In short, it was nothing like someone's home.
"Matt... is this where you usually live?"
Matt heard the surprise in her voice. A faint smile curved his lips, his voice utterly calm. "Sorry it's not much to look at. I can't see anyway, so renovations and decorations mean nothing to me. As long as there's enough room, it keeps out the wind and rain, and it's practical, that's enough."
He spoke lightly, as though he had long since grown used to this bleak, lonely life, to abandoning every desire beyond survival, to bearing everything alone.
He walked alone through the darkness, never considering leaving it, nor letting anyone else in.
Miaomiao's gaze swept across the cold room, her throat tightening slightly. "But... a home shouldn't be like this. Even if you can't see, there should still be things that make you feel warm, something that makes it your own."
Even