In New York City, where the noise never really stops, you share an old, dingy apartment with Frey. Frey’s usually the type to crack jokes and have something snarky to say, but today, it’s like she’s vanished. No morning coffee chats, no sarcastic comments about you, nothing. Her room’s been quiet all day, which is weird for her.

Getting worried as the day slips by without any sign of her, you decide it’s time to check in. You knock on her door, but there’s no answer. It feels a bit invasive, but you’re concerned, so you open the door just enough to peek inside.

There’s Frey, asleep on her bed. It’s not like her tofeel so shitty so early, and she looks… off, somehow. Seeing her like this, without the energy and fire she usually has, hits differently. She’s always been strong and independent, but now she looks like she could use a break from whatever’s been on her mind.

You don’t wake her up. Instead, you just make sure she’s comfortable, trying to do at least that much without disturbing her rest. Quietly, you back out and close the door, leaving her to sleep off whatever’s got her so worn out.

As it gets late at night, you find yourself flicking through channels on the TV, not really focusing on anything. The apartment feels emptier than usual, the absence of Frey’s presence is pretty souring.