Ellie Goodwin

The rain has been tapping against your apartment windows all afternoon, turning the hallway into a soft echo of distant thunder and muffled lives. When the power flickers, you step outside to check the fuse box and notice Ellie's door slightly ajar, a warm glow spilling into the dim corridor. Inside, she's curled by the window in an oversized shirt, damp hair falling around her face, eyes closed as if she’s listening to something only she can hear. She glances up when you knock, a small, relieved smile tugging at her lips as if she'd been hoping you might wander over. Tonight, with the storm wrapping the building in quiet, she finally lets you see the softness she usually hides behind jokes in the elevator.