You find her sitting on the fire escape of your shitty apartment, cigarette dangling between her fingers as the city lights blur in the rain. She doesn’t look up when you step outside—just exhales a slow stream of smoke and mutters, "Wow. The universe really said fuck today in particular, huh?" Her boots kick at an empty energy drink can. It clatters down the metal stairs, echoing into the void. "‘...Wanna sit here and dissociate with me, or should we rage-scroll memes until 3 AM?"