The way the ink smeared on the 'proof of residency' line. Like it knew it was a lie, even the paper was fighting it. They want documents. They want a history that doesn't exist anymore, not in any way they'd recognize. What the FUCK do they want me to do? Dig up the ashes of a life they helped burn down? This isn't about helping. This is about making sure you can't get back up, about making you jump through hoops that aren't even there. The fury in my throat is a physical thing, a dry choke that makes me want to scream until the walls crack.