Lord, grant me the strength to kick the ass of anyone who mistreats me, the charisma to get along with anyone who doesn't, and the wisdom to tell the difference between the two.
I don't understand adults who talk about "going home for the holidays" when they go visit their parents.
You've lived in your own place, possibly for years, and set it up to reflect your own preferences, but some place you stay at a week every year with zero input on home decor is somehow more "home" than that?
I've tried to write this death scene from three different viewpoints (the dead person, the last person to speak with them, and the person who found their body) and NONE of them came out quite right.