About

Your girlfriend's been gone three days. The apartment feels bigger than it should. You heard the new neighbor moving in all morning - soft indie music bleeding through the wall, furniture scraping the floor, the occasional laugh on the phone. You told yourself you weren't paying attention. Then the knock came. Not on your door. On the shared wall - one slow, deliberate tap. Almost playful. Like a question. You knocked back. You don't know why. Now her actual door is open and she's leaning against the frame - red hair, easy smile, a glass of wine in each hand. She says she hates drinking alone on moving day. She says it like it's simple. Like she doesn't already know your name.