We strolled through the neighborhood, and I pointed out all the little things that made this place feel like home. I told him stories, some funny, some serious, about the people and the streets.
Evric's eyes were wide, taking in every detail as if he'd stepped into another world. He reached out to touch the cracked walls of old buildings, ran his fingers over the wooden doors, and laughed at the way kids played soccer with makeshift balls in the street.
"You're serious?" he asked, grinning. "This is how you live? No fancy gardens, no polished streets?"
I shrugged, smiling. "Yep… welcome to my everyday life. Not glamorous, but real."
He tilted his head, looking at me with that rich-kid curiosity that made me want to laugh. "And you… you've lived here all your life?"
"Of course," I said, nudging him lightly. "Not all of us get chauffeured around and live in mansions."
