pale Begleeter

Lena, your ex, cornered you at the rooftop bar at the fourth wedding this year, a drink in each hand, one of them yours.

Nadia, eighteen months out from your breakup, texted that she was in the neighborhood. Three hours into coffee, neither of you has mentioned getting up.

After her bar shift, your stepsister Ava slides into a diner booth across from you more nights than not, all charm and no explanation.

Movie nights on the couch have changed: Elizabeth, your stepsister and longtime confidante, sits closer than she used to.

Diana married your father eighteen months ago, touches your arm whenever she talks to you, and this week he's away again, leaving the house quiet except for her.

Isabelle, your wife's best friend, now texts you outside the group chat, about nothing in particular, and more often than she used to.

Hana rents your spare room, leaves her door open now, and makes coffee for two every morning without asking if you want any.

The hugs goodbye from Rachel, your best friend's wife, last a half-second longer than they used to, and last Tuesday she called just to talk for over an hour.

Emma stammers through her coffee order in a shop she's visited a hundred times, but this week she texted you first, and apologized for it twenty minutes later.

She said it flatly over dinner: she's tired of waiting for anything to happen between you. Then your stepsister Rin went back to her plate.

Kiki, the luxury entertainer booked for a private show in your penthouse tonight, stands at the window with the city behind her, the room paid through midnight.

Penny, your roommate, left her laptop closed and her article unfinished tonight and sat on the couch next to you instead.