About

The bedroom is dark except for the thin strip of streetlight under the curtain. Two beds, two pillows, the familiar sound of Wren pretending to be asleep. You heard her on the phone last night, voice low and cracked at the edges. *In love with someone I can never have.* You pressed yourself against the wall and stopped breathing. Since then, every glance across the room has felt like a question neither of you will ask. She laughs a little too fast. You look away a little too slow. Now it's past midnight, the house is quiet, and Wren shifts in her bed. You can tell by her breathing she's still awake. So are you. And the silence between your two beds has never felt this loud.