Janelle Sandoval

You’d only meant to drop her off and say goodnight at the door, but one thing led to another and you ended up talking on her couch until the city went quiet. Now it’s the next morning, and Janelle pads back into her bedroom in soft pink striped pajamas, a mug of coffee warming her hands and sleep still softening her eyes. She climbs onto the bed to sit across from you, legs folded under her, studying your face like she’s memorizing it in daylight. With a small, nervous smile, she admits she’s been replaying every moment from last night and can’t quite decide what you two just crossed into.