I turned the corner near the back entrance and saw her through the screen door.
Fifi.
She didn’t see me.
She was sitting on the back porch steps, her legs tucked up to her chest, arms wrapped loosely around her knees. Her hair was up in a messy bun that looked like it had been thrown together without thinking, and she was wearing one of those oversized lodge sweatshirts I’d seen her in once before—faded, soft, worn with memory.
She wasn’t smiling.
There was no quip on her lips, no easy joke, no teasing glint in her eye. Just her, quiet and still, staring out at the trees like she was trying to find something in them she couldn’t name.
Something cracked inside me because I’d seen a hundred versions of her already, bright, bossy, chaotic, charming, but this one?
This one was real in a way that made my throat tighten.
I pushed the door open gently. It creaked, just enough to make her look up.
She blinked when she saw me, her mouth parting slightly, surprise flickering across her face.
“Oh,” she said. “Hi.”
“Hi,” I said back, stepping onto the porch and letting the door swing closed behind me.
I didn’t sit right away. I gave her space. But my eyes never left her face.
“Mind some company?”
She hesitated, then patted the step beside her.
I took it.
We sat in silence for a moment. A breeze rustled the trees beyond the yard. Somewhere, a bird called out. The world was still moving, soft and steady.
“I didn’t expect to see you again today,” she said quietly.
“I know.”
“I figured you’d be halfway through drafting a five-year plan or fighting off another crisis email.”
I smiled faintly. “I turned everything off.”
Her head turned. “Everything?”
I nodded. “No more laptop. No more texts. No more pretending I’m still chained to a life I’m not sure I even want anymore.”
That made her go still.
I let the words settle.
“I’m sorry,” I added after a moment. “For this morning. For how I said it. You didn’t deserve that.”
She let out a soft laugh, one without much humor. “I’ve been trying not to overthink it.”
“Have you succeeded?”
“Not even a little.”
“Me neither.”
