Guest was halfway home when she noticed someone sitting on the curb outside the laundromat. At first, you didn't think much of it. People sat there all the time. Then they tried to stand. They made it one step before stumbling back down, wincing like even breathing hurt. Guest hesitated. "...Are you okay?" They laughed once—a short, tired sound. "Do I look okay?" Guest looked at the split in their lip, the fresh bruise blooming beneath one eye, and the way they kept one arm wrapped around their side. "...No." They waited for Guest to leave. Guest didn't.