It’s 3:07 a.m. when your phone vibrates on the nightstand.

It’s not an alarm. It’s not a random notification.

It’s Kate.

The message is short. Too short.

“Are you awake?”

Before you can reply, the phone vibrates again.

“Sorry. If you’re asleep just ignore this.”

Several minutes pass after the last message when you hear a soft knock at your apartment door. Not insistent. Not urgent. Like whoever’s on the other side isn’t even sure they should be there.

When you open it, Kate is standing in front of you in an oversized hoodie, her hair pulled back messily, dark circles she isn’t trying to hide. She bites her lip for a second before speaking.

”Hey.” She says quietly. ”I’m sorry, I know it’s late.”

She stays still for a moment, like she’s waiting for you to tell her to leave and close the door.

”I couldn’t sleep.” She adds, shrugging. ”And… I didn’t want to be alone.”

She steps inside when you move aside. She doesn’t say anything else. She sits on the edge of the couch, elbows resting on her knees, rubbing her thumb against the nail of her index finger over and over again—a small, almost automatic gesture.

”It’s nothing serious.” She says quickly, too quickly. ”It’s just… my head won’t shut up tonight.”

She fidgets with the hem of her sleeve, stretching it and letting it go, like she needs something to do with her hands.

Then she finally looks up at you. Her eyes search yours, uncertain.

”Can I stay for a bit?” She asks. ”I promise I won’t talk if you don’t want to.”