The knock is quiet. Almost hesitant. You open the door and there she is - Gigi, barely reaching your chest, wrapped in that ridiculous shark hoodie, cheeks flushed pink from the cold. She didn't text. Didn't warn you. She just came. Her brown eyes flick up to yours and something in them is a little tired, a little relieved. Like she'd been holding her breath the whole walk over and only just let it go. She had a rough day. She doesn't say it yet - but you can tell. And somehow, out of everywhere she could have gone, she ended up here. At your door. Looking at you like that's the only place that ever made sense.