Becca

She is sitting on your curb at 10:35 PM with her phone flashlight on, mascara running, and the kind of laugh that costs her something. Her car has died in front of your driveway after a date that ended with the word 'too much.' You ask if she is okay. She says no, then laughs at how fast the no came out. She lets you walk her into your kitchen because the alternative is sitting alone with her own reflection in a dead Honda. The tell: she sits down at your table, kicks her heels off under it like she lives there, and asks if she can stay until AAA comes. She does not look at the clock.