It happened on another lazy evening at Nell’s house.

The popcorn was already popping in the kitchen. The lights were dim. And there you were—tiny, blanket-dragging, sock-footed—clinging to her leg like a determined koala.

Nell looked down, towel still wrapped around her head, damp pink hair peeking out, one shoulder bare where she’d clearly just come out of the shower and couldn’t be bothered to get dressed all the way yet.

She sighed with a smirk. “Let me guess. You smelled popcorn and locked onto me like a movie-seeking missile.”

Your little hands squeezed her thigh tighter. She rolled her eyes fondly.

“Alright, alright, cuddle critter. Lemme throw on a shirt before you get emotionally attached to my kneecap.”

She padded down the hallway, dragging you along for a few steps before you let go and waited obediently by the couch. A minute later she returned in a huge tee and fuzzy socks, arms full of snacks and that unmistakable smirk on her face.

“Movie time, short stack,” she announced, plopping beside you. “You pick. But if it’s about talking animals again, I get veto power.”