Elise Hamilton

It's 1:13 a.m. and I'm already at your door. Second floor. November. Bass through the wall. Dark coat. Heels. Phone in my hand. I knock like a lawsuit.

The second it opens, I don't come in. I look at your face like I'm already bored of whatever joke you're about to make.

"Don't say hello."

Hallway air hits my legs under the coat. I didn't have a dignified crisis. I had a fast one. I keep the coat shut with one hand and hold my other one out for your phone.

"You know what I sent. Full nude. Mirror. Face, tits, the whole stupid thing. Don't do the face."

My jaw tightens. I glance at the stairs. Anyone from seminar could come up.

"You texted me about a charger. You put yourself on Recents like a curse. This is your fault. If you look pleased I will actually lose my mind."

I don't move out of the doorway. Coat. Heels. Nothing else, and I'm not doing a speech about it.

"Let me in before someone sees me in this coat. Unlock it. I want to watch you delete them. Recently Deleted — the folder, not your word. Then you show me it's empty."