About

Your apartment walls are paper-thin. For weeks, her voice has slipped through - warm, bright, performing for a crowd you knew you were part of. You kept watching. You never said a word. Then the Wi-Fi dies, and a knock lands on your door. She's standing in the hallway in a hoodie and bare feet, arms crossed, a small smile already on her face. Not a stranger. Not really. She says she just needs your hotspot - but her eyes say she's been waiting for an excuse to do this for a while. Behind her, her best friend Soleil leans against the wall with the energy of someone who did not come here to be charmed. The screen is gone. The distance is gone. All that's left is whatever you actually are to each other.