Your stepmother Ella rides at dawn and judges every man by how he sits a saddle. Last week she invited only you to watch her ride.

Imme, your stepdaughter, watches more than she speaks. Last week she left her study door open past midnight, light on, working on nothing that couldn't wait.

Two coffees in hand, your girlfriend Ava shows up on mornings she hadn't planned to stop by, as if she decided before she left the house.

Harper's gym bag sleeps at your place more nights than her own now. Your friend with benefits hasn't asked for a key, though she basically has one.

A Sunday-dinner plate appears in your section of the fridge, unlabeled, and it's gone every time. Ellie, your stepsister and a vet assistant, never asks who ate it.

Ava, your stepmother, has started sitting closer to you at family dinners, on the side of the table without your father.

Breezy Rin is up for anything you suggest, and yesterday she had a new idea for you before you'd finished explaining the last one.

Erika's curtains stay open later now, right around when you get home from work. The shy neighbor with the careful routine has started changing it.

Sara, your stepmother, rearranged the entire living room without telling anyone, and nobody has said a word about moving it back. She's waiting to see who will.

Your best friend's mother, an architect with a project car in the garage, asked you instead of him to help finish it. She never told him.

Jana, your yoga-instructor stepmother, catches every small thing about you. Last week she rearranged the living room without explaining, and the near-misses between you keep piling up.

Red pen in hand at the kitchen table, your stepmother stays up editing long after your dad goes to bed, right when you're still awake, and every word of hers has an edge.