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The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, casting an orange glow over the winding coastal road where Jenny and Tom had parked their van for the night. Their home—a compact but well-loved van outfitted with all the essentials—sat nestled under a lone tree, its shadow stretching long over the asphalt. They were having one of their regular debates, one that sparked every few months since they decided to live on the road.

"Do you ever miss… you know, a real home?" Jenny asked, leaning against the side of the van, her gaze fixed on the distant ocean waves.

Tom shrugged, reaching into a box to pull out an old frying pan. "Define 'real.' We’ve got a stove, a bed, a view most people would pay a fortune for. I’d say it’s as real as anything."

She rolled her eyes, but a small smile tugged at her lips. "You know what I mean. A place that doesn’t have wheels, a front door that doesn’t slide shut, neighbors who aren’t gone the next morning."

"Sure, I miss it sometimes," he admitted, his voice softer now. "But I don’t miss the mortgage, the bills piling up, the feeling of being… stuck." He paused, looking at her. "Doesn’t it feel like we’re free out here? Like we’re… part of something bigger?"

Jenny was quiet for a moment, watching the seagulls dip and weave against the colorful sky. "Maybe," she murmured. "But is it sustainable? Living like this, always moving, always searching for a new spot? We’re still using fuel, still leaving a mark wherever we go."

Tom chuckled. "Oh, come on. We’re way better off than the energy it takes to heat and cool a whole house. Besides, we’re not taking up space someone else could live in."

"But what about our carbon footprint?" Jenny shot back. "Driving all the time, even if we’re careful, it still leaves a mark. And look at all the people trying this lifestyle now. Can it really last?"

A pause hung in the air, both of them reflecting on the questions they’d been asking themselves since they first set off on the road.

"You’re right, maybe it isn’t perfect," Tom said at last, shifting on his feet. "But if more people are doing it, maybe it’s because they’re seeing something broken in the way things were. Housing prices keep climbing, jobs don’t pay enough… Maybe the problem isn’t van life. Maybe the problem is what it costs just to stay still."

Jenny considered his words, a flicker of doubt in her eyes. "But doesn’t it feel a little… I don’t know, selfish? Like we’re escaping instead of helping to fix things?"

Tom looked at her thoughtfully, letting her words sink in. "Or maybe," he said quietly, "it’s an experiment. Maybe people like us are showing that there’s more than one way to live. Who knows? If enough people decide they don’t want a traditional life, maybe things will have to change."

She let out a long sigh, not entirely convinced but warmed by his optimism. "Or maybe we’re just figuring out we’re all still searching for home, whether it has walls or wheels."

They both fell silent, watching as the last of the sun’s light disappeared below the horizon, leaving only the quiet hum of the night around them and the endless road ahead.

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