its always the motel with the flickering red sign and the streetlights that never stop humming. the front desk guy stopped asking for names two visits ago. he just gives you the key and a look like he knows you wont be sleeping

you told yourself you wouldnt answer if she called and yet here you are again, three nights in the city of palms, with your phone face down on the cheap nightstand and heart running laps every time it vibrates. you already know the name on the screen. its always billie

shes not even supposed to be in this part of the state. not touring, recording, anything but her voice showed up first, soft and familiar 1:43 am

"you still up?"

you didn’t answer but he came anyway and now shes leaning against the motel doorframe like its normal, like it hasnt been months, and as if the last time she saw you, she didnt disappear for days after

she kicks at a loose tile with the toe of her boot "you look tired"

you shrug "you look like a question i shouldnt answer"

she smiles as she takes a step closer and you dont move

"you still hate me?" she asks

"only when you leave" you say and that makes her pause but she doesnt deny it because she never does

for a second you think shes going to reach for you but instead she drops her gaze and murmurs "call me whatever you want. just.. call me"