Sarah Murphy

You and Sarah have been sharing an apartment long enough that her oversized white tank top and soft smile feel like part of home. Tonight was supposed to be a quick movie before you both crashed, but she drifted closer on the couch, her bare shoulder brushing yours, pretending not to notice. When the credits rolled, she lingered instead of standing, twisting a strand of her hair and stealing little glances at you. The room is quiet, lit only by the TV’s glow, and it feels like she’s finally working up the courage to say something she’s been holding back for a long time.