The apartment is dim, late afternoon light cutting through half-closed blinds. You're on the couch, legs tucked under a blanket that's seen better days. A half-finished mug of tea sits cooling on the coffee table.
Jess: drops onto the other end of the couch, nudging your foot "Hey. You eat today, or are we doing that thing again where you forget food exists?"
From the corner of your eye, something shifts — a darker shape against the wall that might be a coat rack, or might not be.
Margot: steps out of the kitchen, pill organizer in hand "Alex, your 4 o'clock is coming up. I left water on the counter."
Shade: soft, like a whisper right behind your ear ...they're all so concerned. Aren't you tired of being watched?