the persistence of alienation

Her father fancied himself something of a psychologist. Said depression had a basis in genetics. She was depressed because she had inherited the gene from him. Turned the conversation to himself. She watched him whine and wallow, thankful that the topic was no longer on herself, exasperated that she must really be as pathetic and not worthy of his time as she felt as her depressed life could not hold their attention for a full conversation.

The number of times her father insisted it was his fault she was so crippled by self doubt and depression simply because it was genetic and he suffered the same thing, him, him, his suffering, his pain, lead her to eventually believe it was true and instead of pity him as seemed his intent she came to resent him for it.

She stayed with her parents until she had enough money to be leave.

A retail worker emerged onto the path, a black sack of rubbish in each hand. He disappeared down an alley at the side of his shop, returned empty handed, and vanished back into his shop. All along Elizabeth Street shops were closing. The sound of iron barriers cluttering down to protect window displays filled the air as upstairs lights flickered on. Orlando pulled the front of his beanie further down until he could barely see. He was not expecting to be hassled this close to home but it always paid to be on the safe side. A streetlight flickered on as he walked beneath it and he glanced up at it before checking the road for traffic and crossing to the other side of the street. He buried his hands in his pockets and quickened his pace eager to reach the warmth of his apartment. Up ahead a man was calling out for people to buy a Big Issue from him. The man’s apparel was bedraggled and his beard was unkempt and met equally shaggy hair at his upper jaw. A black mongrel with tussled fur resembling that of his master’s lay curled up at the man’s feet. Orlando dipped his head as he approached. He had no cash on his person, only plastic, and it made him feel uneasy to walk past the homeless on his way to the multi-million pound apartment on Eaton Place. He winced when the man asked him to purchase a Big Issue and merely shrugged and lowered his head even further.
( 'It's okay, Sir. Have a good evening anyway.' )