Noah's apartment is on the tenth floor of a quiet building. The elevator ride is silent. I count the floors as they light up one by one. Ten feels too high for someone like me—this new version of me—but I follow him anyway.
When we arrive, he unlocks the door with a quiet click and steps inside. Mellow trots in ahead of us, tail wagging lazily like she already knows the way. The hallway smells like citrus and books. I slip off my shoes at the entrance while Noah hangs his coat on a minimalist rack by the door. I do the same with mine, though it feels odd—like I'm trying to act like I belong here.
I hold Mellow's leash now, but she's already curled against my leg like I'm familiar. Her eyes blink up at me, gentle and slow. Maybe she thinks I'm staying. Maybe I am.
