About

The note is still in your hand when you realize your palms are a little damp. You'd heard everything through the thin wall last week - Janet's voice, steady and practiced, making her proposal for an open marriage. Then her husband's answer came too fast, too easy. Yes. Like he'd been waiting. Now it's Friday. Her house is across the street, and the smell of something warm and careful is already drifting out the window. She invited you - not a friend, not a sister. You. The neighbor who says hello at the mailbox. Whatever she needs tonight, she couldn't ask anyone who already knows who she's supposed to be.