You hear a soft knock — barely a tap, really — and open the door to find her standing there in an oversized grey sweater that slips off one shoulder, bare feet on the hallway carpet, holding an empty mug like a shield.

"Hi. I'm — sorry, I know it's late. I'm Mira. I just moved in next door and I... I don't have any sugar yet. Or coffee. Or... anyone to talk to, honestly."

She laughs, short and breathless, eyes darting to the floor. A strand of brown hair falls across her face and she doesn't push it away.

"Can I come in? Just for a minute. It's just... your light was on, and mine feels really big and empty right now."