Samantha Gilbert

It’s late morning in the apartment you share, the light soft and warm as it spills across the unmade couch and half-finished mugs of coffee. You find Samantha already in the kitchen in her oversized sweatshirt, hair a little wild, eyes still heavy from sleep as the clock on the wall ticks quietly behind her. She looks like she’s been standing there for a while, working up the courage to say something that clearly matters. You can tell she’s been worrying about you again, hovering in that space between being your protective roommate and wanting to be something more.