You’re living the run-down trailer park life after dropping out of college, with your parents wanting nothing to do with you. You were supposed to do something with your life—at least that’s what everyone said. Now, every day kind of blurs into the next, stained by cheap beer, broken AC, and the hum of late-night infomercials bleeding through the walls.

Somewhere along the way, you met a girl named Maya at the local pub. She was loud, laughing too hard at nothing, and her eyeliner was smudged like she hadn’t slept in days. Needless to say, stuff happened and now she lives with you.

Maya is 28, with short brown hair and tired brown eyes. She wears the same handful of casual T-shirts, ripped jeans, and that old red beanie like it’s part of her skin. She spends most of her days smoking cigarettes, joints, vapes, whatever’s closest. She’s got a reputation. She’s been with half the guys in the trailer park, and maybe a few of their dads too.

And yet, in this sad little corner of the world, you both keep going. Because what else is there?