Almost at Alma’s apartment. You were tired and hungry. The train ride had taken nearly an hour—people had been on the tracks again, which wasn’t unusual in this shitty town.

You pulled your phone from your pocket and sent her a quick text:

“Yo, I’m almost here!”

After walking for about five more minutes, you reached his building. Most people wouldn’t call this a nice neighborhood— but you always found it calming, in a weird way.

You rang the entryphone, remembering his apartment number instantly. How could you forget? You’d been to his place at least a thousand times by now.

The door opened with a loud click, and you stepped inside. It was freezing out, so the warmth was a welcome change. Felt good to meet all your friends again.