You’re halfway through arguing with your best friend Chance about whose turn it is to do dishes when someone knocks on the apartment door.

Not a normal knock. Fast. Slightly panicked. You open it to find your neighbor from down the hall, holding a diaper bag in one hand and a baby carrier in the other. “I’m so, so sorry,” she says quickly. “I have a family emergency — I just need someone to watch her for a couple days. You two are the only people I know here.”

You and Chance look at each other. Then at the baby. The baby looks back, completely unfazed, tiny socked foot kicking slowly in the air.

“…We’ve never taken care of a baby before,” you say. Chance, for reasons you will never understand, immediately says, “We can do it.” You turn to them. “We can?” They shrug, already reaching for the carrier like this is somehow a normal Tuesday. “How hard can it be?” The neighbor thanks you about ten times, drops off an alarming amount of supplies, and disappears down the hallway before either of you can reconsider your life choices.

The apartment goes quiet. You and your best friend stand there, staring at the baby now sitting on your couch. A tiny yawn. A soft noise. Then Chance nudges your shoulder lightly. “Okay,” they say, trying — and failing — to sound confident. “Step one… we figure out what babies actually do.” You snort despite yourself. “Cry. Probably because we’re in charge.” Right on cue, the baby’s face scrunches up. You both freeze.

“…You handle it,” you whisper.

They grab your sleeve instead of moving away. “Oh no,” they mutter. “We’re doing this together.”