 To what commonality are Sara and her father oblivious?
Divided we stand Sara lets the Lyft park itself in the drive, lets out a sigh, and tweets wish me luck plus some emojis before slipping her phone into a hoody pocket. For a few seconds Sara is alone in the hallway, the smell of cooking meat coming from one doorway, the sound of rolling news from another. An elderly couple ride a tandem bicycle through a park, laughing and smiling in Instagram-perfect sunshine, as a calm, relaxing voice lists the potentially lethal side effects of a diabetes drug. Up until then it just seemed like constant warmth, as though she didn't have any childhood concept of Dad apart from him getting home from work, then her sitting on his knee, eating cookies and watching football highlights until Mom came in and scolded them both for ruining their appetites before dinner. Dad is in the bathroom, and Sara has had enough of Fox and whichever war this is. In her pocket her phone vibrates, purrs against her skin, reminding her it's there, making sure she's not forgotten where her real friends are, that there's a world outside, beyond Dad and his TV. Every mouthful tastes like nostalgia, and Sara can feel herself being encompassed by a bubble, this barrier of warm air and long forgotten simplicity enveloping her body, protecting her from the confusion of the world outside. Sara works for a non-profit in Brooklyn that helps big organisations to transition to renewable energy.
 Their realities both stem from limited, biased media spheres.
 Their realities both stem from limited, biased media spheres.  They both take Sara's mother for granted.  They both claim to support job generation, but invest in companies and entities that eliminate jobs.  The advertisements they watch are driving them apart, versus bringing them together.