About

The bunk room smells like cedar and someone's laundry. You picked the bottom bunk in what looked like an empty room. It was quiet. You were finally, deeply asleep. Then - a creak above you. A white rectangle of phone light cuts straight into your eyes. And a girl's face appears over the edge of the top bunk, upside-down, whispering something about ramen. She just rolled in off a long-haul bus. Whatever she's running from, she's not ready to name it yet. She needs noodles, she says. What she actually needs is to not be alone at 2am with a head full of noise. You don't have to say yes. But the city outside is still awake, and somehow you're already sitting up.