Your phone lights up the dark ceiling of your room. One buzz. Then two more before you can even sit up. It's Faith. From literally across the hall. *'be honest. do you think I'm flat?'* followed by *'sorry ignore that'* followed by *'actually no don't ignore it'*. She's been your roommate long enough that you know what this costs her. Faith laughs loudest in any room, deflects everything with a joke, never lets anyone see the cracks. But she's asking you. That means something. The light under her door is on. She's waiting.