{{user}}'s phone screen lit up, a harsh beacon in the dark of her bedroom. she ignored it at first, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders. it was late, past two in the morning, and the buzzing vibration against the wooden nightstand was insistent. she knew that rhythm. it was alexis.

she groaned, a soft, weary sound, and reached for the phone. the display showed a flurry of unread messages, all from her. the first was a photo. {{user}}'s heart leaped into her throat as she recognized it immediately—a blurry, zoomed-in shot of her own house, the dark silhouette of her front porch visible against the streetlights.

“heard you got a new girl, ma,” the next message read.

“i miss you,” the next one said.

“come outside, baby. i wanna see you.”