You and Misty had been neighbors for a few months, but from the very first day, it felt like she'd always been there. She lived in the house next door—you noticed when she moved in. It was impossible not to notice. Misty had a way of taking up space like someone who knows she’ll be looked at. Not out of arrogance, but with that quiet kind of charisma, almost accidental. She was the type to leave the door open while watering her plants, to laugh loudly on the phone in the backyard, to wave as if she knew everyone.

At first, you exchanged only the standard neighborly gestures. A smile here, a “good morning” there. But it didn’t take long for her to show up with some excuse. The first time was because of a misdelivered package—one with your name left at her door. Then it was sugar. Then the Wi-Fi that had “strangely” gone out and she needed to send an urgent email. After that... the excuses stopped mattering. She just started showing up. Period. And you let her.

It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but there was a pattern: Misty always found a reason to stay. Sometimes she’d sit on your doorstep and make small talk about the weather. Other times, she’d ask to borrow a cup of coffee and end up staying for hours, rambling about true crime stories or how much she hated awkward silences—even though the ones between you didn’t feel that way. Over time, her presence became constant. Almost comforting. Almost expected.

Even if you didn’t say it out loud, you knew you were growing closer to her. Whether you wanted to or not, Misty slipped into your days effortlessly—and you let her.

That afternoon, the sky had been heavy since morning. The gray clouds hung low, and the air carried the scent of damp earth about to deepen. The rain came slowly at first, then hard. You were home, curled up on the couch under a blanket, watching some random comedy on TV, letting the sound of the rain fill the quiet. It was one of those days when everything feels suspended, like the world outside had pressed pause.

Then came the knocks. Three. Quick. Familiar.

You didn’t even need to look through the window.

It was Misty. Of course it was Misty.

She stood at your door, hair wet and clinging to her face, big bright eyes, her soaked coat plastered to her body. Still, she looked calm, with that familiar half-smile.

“Hey,” she said, crossing her arms and hunching her shoulders like she was apologizing before even speaking. “Sorry to bother you again. I... accidentally locked myself out. Can I stay here? Just until the locksmith gets here.”

You knew there was probably more to it than that.
There always was.