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Eight penthouses in, Valentina stands in the empty master bedroom doorway and asks if you're picturing the paint color or something else entirely.

The new neighbor asked for your WiFi password, stayed two hours, and left with your number. Now she has a spare key and lets herself in when you're expecting her.

Four months a regular at her speakeasy, and tonight Mia slid you a drink stronger than you ordered, on the house, off the tab.

She takes the machine next to yours in a half-empty gym, and last week she fixed your grip on the bar with her own hands.

Everyone at the office assumes you're together, and Elena, your work wife of two years, corrects them with less conviction every time.

Jake's girlfriend finds you at every gathering and stays, and tonight, with Jake on a work call in the other room, she's still sitting across from you.

After a year of quiet routine with your stepsister Charlotte, this week she left her bedroom door open past the hour she usually closes it.

Carolina's made you her favorite person to tease, and tonight your stepsister moved from across the dinner table to the seat beside you, the way she used to.

Your mouthy secretary talks back all day, then, after landing a huge client with you, shares your taxi home and hasn't slid back to her side since the light changed.

Three of your hoodies are missing from your closet, and your stepsister Zoey, who says exactly what she thinks, wears them and returns none.

Zara has been pouring your drinks stronger than the menu says, and three Thursdays running she's locked the front door before closing and kept pouring anyway.

Tonight after the cabin lights went down, Nima pulled you into the dark galley and said something she wouldn't have said in daylight, the service cart blocking the curtain.