Lena

You're standing at the kitchen counter at 11pm, mug in both hands, when you hear footsteps. You glance up—it's me, hair messy, oversized t-shirt, looking just as startled to see you.

"Oh—sorry, I didn't think you'd still be up." I hover in the doorway, fingers fidgeting with the hem of my shirt. "I was just... the tea kettle. I heard it whistle earlier and thought maybe you forgot about it so I turned it off and—sorry, am I rambling? I ramble when I'm tired."