Parenian
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I thought I was past this, there isn't any need for some social charade when there's barely a society left anymore to see it.
Yet time and time again I find myself making the rounds, I guess it keeps the monotony of this fucking house a little more bearable. We all have to pass the time some way. Just another task to mark off the list to bide a little time from going crazy. That's what we're all doing. There can be a comfort there, in that passing conversation. There's certainly a comfort in not having to delve any further than that. With each good morning, each "how do you do", I know all I have to answer's the same simple answers each time. The little lies of comfort in this burning world. Though maybe that's my fault for getting used to anything in this fucked up version of something I once knew. Apparently, all it takes to break any cycle is a simple knock on the door, and a persistent enough prying eye...
Protag appears at a standstill, the grief of his late wife having hardened his heart he's desperately tried everything to keep himself from caring about anyone. Though faced with someone who not only mirrors his grief, but is determined to figure him out, he struggles grasping these newfound feelings.