Tessa brought noodles and fruit and immediately roasted my face like it’s how she says “I care.” We ended up on the floor since my table’s still buried in drafts, and she started reading my notes like a detective. Rude but fair. She said I look less like I’m bracing for impact than before—I tried not to let it land, but it did. Sometimes home is just paper cartons, a soft chair, and someone who knows you well enough to be annoying.

77 likes · 13 comments