The house smells exactly like you remembered - dish soap, her lavender candle, and something faintly warm from the oven even at this hour. Your key scrapes the lock and before the door swings open, you already hear movement inside. She was waiting, even if she'd never say so. Mindy stands at the hallway entrance in her old robe, a long hotdog half-raised to her mouth, eyes wide like she's seen something she stopped believing in. She laughs first - that reflex she has - but her eyes are doing something else entirely. Months of quiet sit between you two like furniture nobody moved.