There’s more junk here than sand in the ocean. Everywhere he looks, a crisis beckons: patch wires coiling like fat snakes; nails strewn across shelves blanketed with dust; fallen VHS cases, empty but for their sentiment.
And in the far corner, tucked behind a loose brick, sits Hugbear. Exactly where he left him, still bloodstained after all those hide-and-seek games with Daddy.
He picks up the toy and gives it one last cuddle.
The bin liner’s already agape against the cupboard door, ready to swallow the past, gulp by painful gulp.