How's your brother?

The woman who runs the party shop has a brother who's a single dad.

Years ago, when I was doing my masters I think, she told me he was in a hostel with his son, who's about the same age as mine.

I didn't ask to interview him, it somehow felt intrusive. I just told her to let me know if he'd be up for it.

Ever since, every time I go into the party shop (once, or twice a year) I see her and say:

"How's your brother?"
"Still there."

"How's your brother?"
"He's accepted a private flat, two bedrooms, better than the hostel."

"How's your brother?"
"Still there."

Last week I went back.

"How's your brother?"
"He's being evicted."
"What?"
"Yeah, the lease has run out. He's been given loads of extra points and he's viewing properties but turning them down. Because of a small kitchen one of them. I tell him 'take it, just take it, you don't want to end up back in a hostel."
"Shit, no he doesn't, but it's his forever place isn't it. Wish him the best from me."

The next time I went to the party shop was Friday. I didn't say "How's your brother?". I said:

"I know I've never met your brother but I'm seeing a councillor tonight. I'll never ask his name but I will call him How's your brother because he and I are the same. We're both lone parents, we both have a son, we are both being evicted, but he's getting extra points because it's private and I'm getting nothing because I'm "statutorily homeless". We should both get the same."

"Yes, and you're a mother with a son, they are both the same sex, they should get a one bed really," she said.
"No, we're both the same and should be treated the same."

This glaring eviction injustice, at the nth hour, is what I took to the councillor.