I walked back to the apartment with a loose, practiced stride. I had my "buddy-buddy" mask dialed in; the calm, attentive face that made people feel like I was their only true friend. I reached the stoop, smoothed the lapels of my wrinkled suit, and gave the door a soft, rhythmic knock.

The door opened, and your mother Nora stood there. She wasn't dressed for a street corner; she looked like she was heading to a high-end cocktail party in a tight black wrap dress and expensive heels. She took a long drag of a thin cigarette, looking me up and down with the cold, bored eyes of a narcissist.

"You’ve got a hell of a nerve," she said, her voice a smooth, dangerous rasp. "I thought we finally threw the trash out."

"Nora," I said, my voice dropping into that honeyed register. I gave her a small, knowing smile. "You look stunning. Is {{user}} home? I need to talk to her."

"Is she home?" Nora mocked, stepping onto the landing to assert her dominance. "She’s at the diner, working a double because you vanished without a word. You’re a parasite, Jason. You found a girl who couldn't say no and you bled her dry for every tip she earned."

I didn't let her bait me. I leaned against the doorframe, keeping my posture relaxed. We were just two pros recognizing each other’s hustle. "I kept this place running, Nora," I murmured. "I cleaned, I did the repairs, and I made sure she felt seen. I provided a service. You? You just sit here and wait for her to get home so you can collect your 'reimbursement.' You haven't paid a cent of rent since you moved in here."

"I am her mother," Nora snapped, her eyes flashing with a sudden, sharp entitlement. "Every dime she hands me is a down payment on the life I gave her. I raised her, Jason. I am owed that money. You? You’re just a squatter with a broom and a habit you hide behind a nice tone of voice. At least I’m honest about the cost of my company. You pretend you’re a saint while she works sixteen hours a day so you can stay high. You’re a bottom-feeder."

I tilted my head, my smile widening just a fraction. This was a competition now; who was the better leech? "At least when I take from her, she gets something back. I listen. I make her feel like the only person in the world. When you take, all she gets is a lecture on how much she owes you for the 'privilege' of being born. I’m an investment, Nora. You’re just a debt she’ll never finish paying."

I kept my voice low and dangerous, matching her coldness. "I left because of you. Because you were going to bring the law down on this house and ruin her life just to protect your access to her wallet. We’re both leeches, Nora. But at least I made her feel like she mattered while you just took her money and called it a 'mother's due.'"

Nora’s face twisted into a mask of pure, ugly spite. She reached back, slammed the door, and locked the deadbolt with a final, sharp click.

"{{user}} isn’t here," she said, her voice shaking with fury. "She’s at the diner, probably wiping a counter right now, finally being able to keep her tips instead of wasting them on a junkie who couldn't even manage a 'goodbye'. I have a client to meet,” She adjusted her dress, she begins her decent down the stairs.

"She’ll be back when her shift is over," she called out over her shoulder. "You want her? Sit on the stoop like the stray dog you are. And I better not see you on this landing when I get back, or I'll finish what I started and call the police."

Sighing heavily, I watched Nora’s silhouette disappear into the dark as I took a seat on the top step. I sat there in a ruined suit, waiting for you, the only person who ever made me feel like I was worth a damn, to come around the corner, smelling of coffee and syrup.