The Brennan Legacy Continues

Six months in, you've traded instant ramen for the kind with hand-pulled noodles and a name you can't pronounce. Your spreadsheets are immaculate. Uncle Roy calls you a prodigy. Grandma Mae sent a fruit basket with a note reading, 'Welcome to the family, sweetheart. Burn this card.'

Your shredder hums beside you like a loyal hound. Rent? Paid. Morals? Negotiable. Dental? Outstanding.