Red let himself into his apartment and shut the door with a quiet click. It was dark, but the south-facing window caught enough moonlight to lend the room a pale glimmer. The bars protecting his crop of strawberries cut long shadows across the wall. Snoring came from the narrow bedroom. He checked his uncle was alright, adjusted the thin sheets to cover him, then returned to the living room. The worn sofa, his bed, looked like heaven but he had chores first. He filled a plastic jug with rainwater, added a sterilizing agent, and hand-pumped the solution through a carbon filter. The keys to the window cage hung over the broken oven. He took them, opened the small greenhouses, and watered each plant in turn.