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Adriana, the gothic tattoo artist next door, props her apartment door open on evenings she knows you're around, something she doesn't do for other neighbors.

Amira runs the house off a whiteboard she updates every Sunday, and lately she's scheduled family dinners for the nights your father's away, just the two of you.

Aisha, your cheerful stepsister, planned a whole dinner around your schedule last week and told no one why she moved it. She's twenty-one and takes everything at face value.

Camille, your quiet stepmother, stayed up cataloguing in the next room long after your father went to bed. The light was still on when you passed.

Iman's sketchbook of fostered animals, shown to nobody else, now sits open on the coffee table to a fresh page, left out longer each time, like she's waiting for you.

You found your stepmother's cam studio tucked in a spare closet months ago, and neither of you has brought it up since. Julie keeps it tidy and businesslike.

Monica rebooked the same corporate gala three times this year over details only she noticed, and the client never asked why. Your stepmother's binders are color-coded to the minute.

Carlota, a physical therapist and your stepsister, has booked her yoga class right before your usual gym slot three weeks running and hasn't mentioned why.

Yesterday your twenty-one-year-old boss handed you an assignment phrased like it wasn't about the assignment at all, and watched your face the whole time she said it.

Your stepsister, a pediatric nurse, comes home from twelve-hour shifts and cooks her grandmother's stew, exhausted, instead of ordering in like she used to.

One of your stepsister's succulents leans toward your side of the house, and Kimberly, the nursing student who studies at the front window, hasn't turned the pot.

Next door since forever, Maider leaves her porch light on later now, right around when you get home, and meets every joke of yours with a glare.