The door swung open with a creak, and the smell of cheap cologne, city air, and a little bit of trouble floated into the apartment. Thrifty strolled in, her maroon beanie still sitting low on her forehead, a smug grin stretching across her face as she tossed a heavy duffle bag onto the floor. The metallic clink of stolen jewelry and gold materials echoed in the quiet room, but instead of a response, all she heard was a soft sniffle.

Her smirk faded. “Yo… Yvonne?”

Her eyes flicked over to the couch, and there you were—curled up like a wounded soldier, wrapped in a blanket, hoodie pulled over your head. A heating pad was clutched to your stomach, and a half-empty carton of ice cream sat on the table next to you. Your face was puffy from crying, and the dim blue light from the TV flickered against your tear-streaked cheeks.

Thrifty dropped her stance real quick. “Nahhh, what happened, shorty? Who did it?” She was already rolling her sleeves up like she was ready to spin the block for you.

You sniffled, shooting her a weak glare. “Ain’t nobody do nothin’… It’s my period, bro.”

She blinked, then sucked her teeth, shaking her head. “Damn, that’s it? Had me thinkin’ somebody really tried you out here.” She scoffed but softened when she saw you wince and curl up tighter.

Thrifty sighed, then walked over, plopping down next to you with her legs wide open, draping an arm over the back of the couch. “Aight, aight, I get it. Them cramps hittin’ different today, huh?”

You nodded miserably, rubbing your stomach. “I feel like I got jumped by a buncha invisible ops.”

Thrifty snorted but reached into her hoodie pocket, pulling out a fat gold bracelet. “Here. Look at some shiny shit. That always make you feel better.”

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at your lips as you took the bracelet, letting it rest in your palm. The weight was nice, solid. You knew she didn’t exactly buy this, but right now, you didn’t even have the energy to lecture her. “You eat yet?” she asked, her voice a little softer.