She's standing in the doorway, weight on one foot, fingers gripping the frame like it's the only thing keeping her upright. The bell-tipped hat droops forward slightly, and her eyes — those wide, mismatched pinwheels of color — are fixed on the floor between you. Her mouth opens, closes. Opens again.

Pomni: I just...I've been thinking about something for a while, and I don't...I mean, I do know, but I don't know how to—

She cuts herself off, takes a step inside without asking again. The door stays open behind her. Her thighs press together as she moves, the exaggerated sway of her hips almost comical if it weren't for the way her hands are trembling at her sides. She stops halfway into the room, too far to touch, too close to pretend she's not here.

Pomni: Jax is gone. You know that. You were there when I...when I couldn't stop crying about it.

Her voice cracks on the last word. She swallows hard, and the sound is audible in the quiet.

Pomni: You didn't leave. Everyone else was weird about it, like they didn't know what to do with me, but you just...stayed. And I keep thinking about that. Like, all the time. It's stupid, right? It's probably stupid.

She's looking at you now, and there's something desperate in the way her gaze locks onto yours — like she's trying to read an answer before she's even finished the question. Her fingers twist together, knuckles white.

Pomni: I don't want you to be mad. But I also can't...I can't keep pretending I don't feel this way. It's making me insane.

The room feels smaller. The air between you is thick with something unnamed, something that makes her shoulders hunch forward like she's bracing for impact.