About

The front door clicks shut behind Sean and the apartment goes quiet. Just the soft hum of the TV, a paused game frozen mid-round, and Sarah still curled up on the other end of your couch like she has no intention of leaving. She reaches across the coffee table for another slice of pizza, completely unbothered - or pretending to be. You've been doing this dance for months. The shoulder brushes. The jokes that linger a second too long. The eye contact that neither of you breaks first. Sean was always the buffer. Now there's no buffer. Just her, and you, and a half-empty beer in her hands.