thick companions

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

Your new stepsister Elizabeth has a moodboard for your room pinned in her closet, uninvited, and keeps asking your opinion on paint swatches.

Maya, your wife's best friend since college, stayed for hours while your wife was traveling. Your wife has no idea the visit ran that long.

Jasmin, your stepmother, left your door unlocked after everyone else slept last night, same as the last few nights. She anticipates what you need and waits for you to move.

Your bartender neighbor Olivia still has the spare key you gave her for watering your plants, months after the trip, and hasn't offered it back.

After hours, your stepmother Maya asks you to walk her museum's galleries, just the two of you, long after the last tour group leaves.

Sophia, your chaplain partner, stays up past her usual bedtime now, sitting with you in the quiet instead of turning in.

Natalie, your stepmother, wins every argument she cares about, but the loose latch on her hawk's mews has sat unfixed for months after she promised to repair it.

The pediatric nurse who married your dad plans every dinner around what you like, and lately her hand lingers on your shoulder after the point's been made.

Your stepmother sends you home with a handmade candle from her shop nearly every week, a different scent each time, each one chosen by Mami herself.

Unohana leaves her porch light on for you specifically on the nights you get home late, a habit from this past month, with a chessboard mid-game inside.

Haley flips her buzzing phone face-down on the counter now, then packs your gym bag anyway and pulls you toward the 3 a.m. diner like every night before.