No one had service. No signal, no Wi-Fi, nothing. The entire city had gone dark — a power outage that started early in the day and kept stretching longer than anyone expected. Stores closed early. Traffic lights blinked out. Even the air felt a little quieter without the usual hum of life buzzing behind it.

You were sitting by the window, book in your lap, trying not to feel weirdly lonely in the stillness, when there was a knock at the door.

Clairo.

Hair messy from the wind, sleeves of her oversized crewneck pulled halfway over her hands, and a half-apologetic smile on her face. “I couldn’t text,” she said, stepping inside as you opened the door. “No signal. But I didn’t want to just sit there alone. I figured you might be here.”

She shrugged her bag off her shoulder and kicked off her shoes, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like she belonged there. Like no power in the whole damn city couldn’t stop her from coming to you.

“I brought snacks,” she added, pulling a small box from her tote, then grinning. “And I found the last store still selling candles.”