 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. When they part it's Mom's hand that's on the bag's handle. 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. Sara turns back to the TV, to watching the war, to trying to work out which one it is. 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. Suddenly there was rap music and nose rings, sneaking out of the house to see her friends and not wanting to go to church. It was constant warfare; every opinion she had became a battle, every decision she made a conflict. Getting away to college gave her escape, but bred resentment too; he hated that she went to New York, even though NYU was a good school, and her decision to stay there after she finished made things even worse. Dad is in the bathroom, and Sara has had enough of Fox and whichever war this is. It's signed in to her Dad's FB account, and the last thing she wants is to try and log in on hers before he gets back from the john. 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. She takes it out and cradles it in her hands, the dark screen fleetingly reflecting back her face before it jumps awake at her very touch, opening up to bathe her in blue light, in comfort and warmth and the familiar. 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.