10
Emma
I’m hanging out at my house, which is starting to feel less like a place where two roommates live and more like a solo spot. Evie is still paying the measly five hundred bucks a month that is her share of the rent, but I haven’t seen her in two weeks.
I’ve texted her a few times, asking when she would be back and inviting her to do stuff. She just texts back with vague excuses. I’m pretty sure she is going to move out soon. I’m bracing myself for it.
So I’m sitting in the mid-morning sun, reading an old copy of the Stanford Law Review on the front porch. I am thinking about food, vaguely dreaming of omelets.
I glance up to find Asher coming into the yard, a box of pastries and a couple cups of coffee balanced precariously in his arms. My eyebrows go up; I didn’t expect him her
