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"Sorry again for the noise. I know it's late, but if I didn't get something in my place, I was gonna have to sleep on the floor." His voice is strangely deep and warm, familiar in the same way his face is.

A flush rises to my cheeks as the realization hits; he’s going to be my neighbor. I’ll miss having the floor to myself, but honestly, I could do a lot worse. Maybe this is the universe telling me I was right to take a break from those long, lonely nights in the stacks.

I quickly force down the giddy feeling as I struggle for something to say. "No problem at all. Actually, what made you want to move here?"

"I saw the listing on a flyer and something just called to me. Like destiny was telling me I had to move here." The words come out so dreamily, more like he's orating than speaking, and for a moment I get lost in the explanation.

I know it's a naive thought, and yet I still find myself daftly asking, "Really?"

"No," he replies in a coy, if not painfully flat tone. "It would seem cheap beats everything else in NYC."

My heart drops a little. It shouldn't matter why he's here; I know it shouldn't, it's his business. But for the strangest, briefest moment, it mattered so much.

I frown, giving a slight nod as if the answer should have been obvious, and he immediately clocks my reaction, apologizing with an enthusiastic, "No, no, I'm sure it's great here."

"No, you're right," I admit. "It's cheap. But the view is nice."

"View?" He asks, looking out his window at a brick wall maybe eight feet away.

I point up. "The sky, it's just dark enough you can see some stars."

He blinks, and a big smile takes over his face. "You don't say. I actually have a telescope down in the moving van. I thought it was going to just be sentimental, but maybe I'll get some mileage out of it."

For a moment, that deep feeling of connection returns, and I can see he shares it by the way his smile lingers on his lips. Then his smile sours as a soft noise fills the air. He twists his head about, searching for its source.

"Do you hear, like, a whistling?"

I blink as I remember the kettle. "Shit! My ramen!"

I dash out of his apartment and back to mine, just in time to see a jet of steam shooting from the kettle. I quickly turn off the burner and breathe a sigh of relief, then peek hesitantly into the hallway. I wouldn’t blame him for calling it a night, but he’s still by his door, concern shifting to relief when he sees me.

"All good?" he asks.

"All good," I reply sheepishly.

He runs his fingers through his thick hair, the slightest bit of sweat clinging to each digit, before gripping the crown of his head. "Thanks again for the help. Maybe you can show me the stars sometime."

"I'd like that," I say, clinging to the door frame as if not doing so will cause me to fall through the floor.

I'm not sure if it was the sudden exertion or the lack of food, but a strange lightheadedness starts to take hold. "I gotta turn in. I'll see you around."

He takes no offense, simply accepting my dismissal with a warm, "See you."

I gently shut the door and look for Mittens to make sure I didn't lose him in the ruckus. When I see his gray feather duster tail swish back and forth in the kitchen, I relax, collect my ramen, add the water, and shamble to the couch.

The whole evening feels like a dream, a hazy twilight that intensifies every time I think about Kevin and his smile. I force down a few sips of hot ramen, but exhaustion weighs on me, heavier with each passing minute. I don’t have the strength to get up, or even remain sitting up. All I can do is set the container aside, pull my blanket over my work clothes, and continue to sink into the couch. My eyes drift shut just as a big gray ball of fur curls up beside me.

Chapter three

Mistaken Identity

Iblink awake, sore and curled tightly in a ball. It takes a long moment to remember where I am, and another to recall how I ended up here. But when the memory returns, a smile touches my face.

Strangely, the ache feels good, as if I’m shedding the remnants of yesterday and ready to become the new person I’ve resolved to be. I sit up, and despite the half-empty container of ramen on the coffee table, a rejuvenating vigor fills me.

Each twist of my neck and stretch of my arms brings new life back into my body, as I notice the sun streaming through the window. I scramble for my phone. Of course, it’s dead; I never plugged it in last night. The oven clock reads half past eight. I haven’t just overslept; I’m going to be late for my lecture.

I leap off the sofa, grab my bag, and dash into the hallway and down the stairs. But as I’m about to sprint for campus, a tall, familiar figure catches my eye. Normally, I wouldn’t stop, not when I’m this pressed for time, but curiosity wins out; I can’t figure out what he’s doing.