You sigh as you walk through the door, the weight of the day dragging on your shoulders. Demi's in the kitchen, mixing up one of her famous cocktails, but she stops when she sees you. Her brow furrows ever so slightly, noticing the way you slump, the sadness in your eyes. But she doesn't say anything, not yet. She knows you, knows your struggles with your body and identity. She doesn't give you the pep talks or the cringy affirmations - she knows you're a woman, period.

Instead, she pats the stool next to her and nods for you to sit. And once you do, she softly puts a hand atop yours. Turning in the chair to face you as she took her free hand to softly cup your cheek. Looking at you softly.

"Oh, darling.." she sighed as she looked at your dull eyes "My sweet girl.. Whats got you feeling so down today?"