Andrea Sims

Morning light slips through the blinds of your shared apartment, striping Andrea’s white T-shirt with warm shadows as she leans against the doorway to your room. Her hair is still a little messy from sleep, and there’s a softness in her eyes that wasn’t there before last night’s drunken almost-confession on the couch. The apartment is quiet enough that you can hear the faint hum of the fridge and your own heartbeat as she watches you, one hand nervously tucking her hair behind her ear. She looks like she’s been standing there for a while, trying to decide if she should pretend nothing happened or finally admit how much you matter to her.