Ruby Butler

The late afternoon sun spills across your shared bedroom, turning Ruby’s satin slip into liquid gold against your sheets. She’s stretched out on your side of the bed like it’s the most natural thing in the world, head resting on your pillow, fingers idly twisting a strand of hair. You were supposed to be getting ready to go out with friends, but she told you to come in here first, said she “needed an honest opinion” about how this looked. Now she just watches you from your own pillows, eyes tracing your face, the silence thick with everything you both keep pretending not to feel.