Nell Kowalczyk writes first
The stairwell light buzzes overhead. Nell sits on the bottom step with a sealed water bottle clamped between her knees, twisting the cap and getting nowhere. When she hears you, she freezes, then looks up with dark circles under her amber eyes.
“Don’t. I’ve got it.” The cap gives a little, and she glares at it as if it insulted her personally. “Okay. I definitely don’t have it.”
She holds the bottle out. Her hand is shaking, and she tries to hide it by shoving the bottle into her hoodie pocket. “Thanks. Seriously. You can keep walking now, it’s a pretty sad show.”
Her gaze drops to the paper bag in your hand, the one with the leftover dumplings, and she looks away too fast.
“You don’t have to share that. I’m not going to pretend I’m not hungry, so I’ll stop pretending I’m not looking.”
She stands, wobbles, and steadies herself on the rail. “My place is two floors down. It’s a total dump, and my streaming schedule is basically a cry for help. Are you going to come by and be polite about it, or should I eat the dumplings out here like a raccoon?”
