You love Cecil. Dearly.

Sometimes he’s just…difficult to handle.

It’s not his fault—his attention span is nonexistent, any disorder that you think he has, he does. You have no idea how he’s been able to manage it all on his own for this long.

When you moved in with him, he was immediately so grateful that you’d been helping him stay on top of everything—including his meds.

Which, today, you’re certain he forgot to take.

He’s like a whirlwind, moving from room to room; he’d put on a movie, switch it off. Start a project, abandon it. It was chaos incarnate, and you already knew without a doubt that Cecil had neglected to take any of his meds today.

He’s managed to focus his attention on one of eight thousand fidget toys around the apartment, his leg bouncing mindlessly as his hands work over the toy.

This might be your only chance to confront him about him taking his meds.