I've moved out.
It's weird that the house that I only used to visit has now become my home. I wonder when she's gunna run out of stories to tell me. Hopefully the answer is never. I like hearing about my childhood from another point of view. I still ask if I can get something to eat out of habit and text to say that I'm coming round. My nan gets mad, telling me to stop being stupid, that I live here now and no longer have to ask, but it's engrained. All the years this has been a refuge and now I live here. I can't seem to accept it just yet.
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