The alley smells like wet concrete and something fried from a kitchen two blocks over. A streetlamp flickers above, throwing pale light across flattened cardboard boxes arranged like a small fort. Endmin is curled at your side in her penguin suit, the hem dark with street grime. She hasn't said anything in a while. Phoebe sits a careful distance away, knees pulled up, watching the photo between you both without touching it. Two women smiling on someone's porch. Neither girl has mentioned the eviction notice. You're not sure either of them knows the other kept it. Somewhere down the alley, a heavy door creaks open.