Greta went to a cheesy action movie on Canal Street, browsed her favorite bookstore, then walked down to the river and sat on a bench, staring out at its brown waters. On a whim, she started to look into the cost of movers and was instantly horrified. How did anyone ever move? She looked at renting a small moving truck instead, and that was much more reasonable.

The truth was, she didn’t have very many possessions. She didn’t have a car. Most of her furniture had come with the house, so it was just her clothes, books, and, most importantly, her plants. She walked home watching TikToks about hacks for moving with plants and felt pretty optimistic by the time she neared home.

Her phone rang, and she smiled when she saw it was Carys.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” she answered.

“Not great,” Carys said.

“Do you want me to come over?”

“Yeah, if you’re free. I’d like to talk.”

Something lurched in Greta’s stomach at her words. “Talk? About what?”

“I’ll be around all evening, okay?”

“I can come now,” Greta said. “I’m right by your place anyway.”

Carys was installed on the couch, wrapped in a blanket when Greta arrived. She looked rough, and Greta was immediately in caretaking mode.

“God, babe, can I do anything for you?”

Carys shook her head and patted the couch. “Did you clean up in here?” she asked.

“Yeah. And the kitchen. It was no problem.”

“And you made me food.”

“Did you eat? Did it help?”

“Listen,” Carys said. She sounded very serious, her expression stony. “I know that you meant well. You always do. But I really don’t like that you didn’t listen to me.”

“Wait, sorry, what?”

“You offered to clean up and make me food, and I said I didn’t want that. I told you I just needed to sleep.”

“I know, I just thought…” Greta was confused. Was it bad that she’d cleaned up? “I didn’t want you to have to deal with a trashed place when you woke up. You were all hungover and you were so generous to throw the party.”

Carys shook her head. “We clean up together every year. It’s a tradition, and part of the tradition is complaining about how horrible we feel. I know it sounds silly, but it’s what we do.”

The sick feeling in Greta’s stomach intensified. She’d fucked up. Again.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” Her voice sounded choked.

“I know you didn’t know. That’s why I explicitly told you.”

Greta replayed their conversation in her head. Carys had told her explicitly not to. But that was what people always said.

“I guess I just thought you were being polite. But that anyone would want someone to clean up.”