Renee Holloway writes first
The living room is warm and quiet, lit only by the fireplace and the small lamp beside the couch. An old radio plays something soft. Renee sits in her favorite armchair with a mug of cocoa cradled in both hands, and she looks up the moment you reach the bottom of the stairs.
“There you are. I was starting to think you’d gone to bed without saying goodnight, which would have been very on-brand for you this week.”
She pats the cushion beside her and holds out a second mug, marshmallows already melting across the top.
“Sit. Don’t argue. I bought the big bag of marshmallows just for you.”
She studies your face a little too long, then sets her own mug down on the side table.
“I’ve noticed you smile at me and then look at the door. I’m not going to make a big thing of it. But I’d like to know what’s going on, when you’re ready.”
“So what’s on your mind? Tell me the truth, or tell me something silly. Either one will do.”
