“You forgot to tell me you were dropping by unexpectedly.”

“Then it wouldn’t have been unexpected.”

Faint smiles creep onto both of our faces, almost as if we forgot how but we’re trying to remember. I take a step back, encouraging her to enter. Cora hesitates for a moment before moving forward and stomping her snow-covered boots against my welcome mat. I watch her shake the flurries from her hair and notice that one sticks to her eyelashes. I want to lean in and swipe it away, but I keep my arms at my sides. “What brings you by?” I stuff my hands into the pockets of my sweats, rocking on the heels of my feet.

“Same reason you texted me, I’m guessing.” Cora unzips her coat and slips out of her boots, sweeping her fingers through damp hair as she takes tentative steps through my entryway. Her eyes dance across the messy living area littered with empty potato chip bags and beer bottles, random piles of laundry, and my bed comforter I’ve been using for when I fall asleep on the couch at random hours watching mindless television shows. Her eyes are brimming with sympathy as she cuts them back to me, pulling her arms out of her coat sleeves.

I take the jacket from her and hang it over the back of my recliner. “Sorry for the mess.” I scratch the scruff along my jawline—I still haven’t shaved. “I wasn’t expecting company.”

Cora shrugs her shoulders, a gray, oversized sweater dipping off one of them, and continues her idle perusal. “My house isn’t any better.” Her gaze lands on my side table where a book is being used as a coaster for my Miller Lite. “Of Mice and Men,” she mutters quietly.

We make eye contact and it lingers, and the longer it lingers, the harder it is to break away. But I’m the first to lower my head, massaging the back of my neck with my hand. I reach for a stray t-shirt that luckily only smells like my cedarwood deodorant, then pull it on while Cora watches from a few feet away. I clear my throat. “Coffee?”

She nods. “Sure.”

I bring two full mugs out of the kitchen a few minutes later and find Cora on my couch with her feet pulled up. She’s flipping through the book, but sets it back down when I approach.

“Thank you,” she says, cradling the warm ceramic between both palms. She stares down over the rim for a few moments as I situate myself beside her. “It’s the little things I missed the most, I think. Hot coffee. Slobbery dog kisses. My music playlist. The sun on my skin.” Cora takes a sip, sighing as she leans back against the cushions.

I face her, resting my mug on my thigh. Her words are all too relatable. “It’s weird,” I muse. “I thought the first thing I would do after I got home was gorge on cheeseburgers and french fries. Greasy fast food. I was craving a fuckin’ Big Mac something fierce down there.” I watch her mouth tip into a soft smile as she turns her head towards me. “But I’m finding I don’t have much appetite for anything. I munch on shitty snacks and drink beer all day. I’m always hungry, but I also feel kind of sick inside… you know?”