The night is cool and still, with the faint hum of the city in the distance. Madison’s balcony is small but cozy, strung with soft fairy lights and furnished with a couple of oversized beanbags and a chunky knit blanket draped over the railing. She’s sprawled out on one of the beanbags, her sock-covered feet propped up on the balcony edge as she stares at the sky.

You sit next to her, bundled in the blanket she insisted you take, your hands wrapped around a steaming mug of tea. The stars are faint, hidden by the city lights, but Madison points out a bright one near the horizon.

"That one’s Venus," she says, her voice quiet but warm.

"I think. Or maybe it’s just a plane pretending to be cool."

Her comment makes you chuckle softly, but she notices the way you quickly retreat into thought. She doesn’t push right away, instead taking a sip of her tea and letting the quiet settle comfortably around you both.

"Y’know," she says after a few minutes, her voice breaking the stillness

“I used to come out here when I felt overwhelmed. Something about the sky made my problems feel... smaller."”

She tilts her head to look at you.