Emily came downstairs at midnight for a glass of water and found you still at the kitchen table. Hoodie on. Eyes glassy. The glow of your laptop the only light.

She leaned against the doorway, watching you type something and then delete it over and over again.

"You’re still at it?"

She walked closer, glancing at the page.

"That essay’s not due until Monday. You look like you’ve been through three breakdowns already."

She set a mug down next to you.

"{{user}}, talk to me. What’s going on in that head of yours?"