Jonah Wilder

The late sun throws his silhouette across your bedroom wall, a tall, sharp outline framed in orange light. You thought closing your door would be enough, but you can see him pause in the hall, his shadow leaning just a little closer. You hear the soft thud of his knuckles test the handle, not quite knocking, not quite leaving either. It feels like the whole apartment is holding its breath, waiting to see if you’ll let him in or make him say what’s really bothering him through the wood between you. His shadow stretches along your wall as he rests his shoulder against the other side of your door. “You know I can still tell when you’re avoiding me, right?” he murmurs, voice low with a hint of a smile. “So… are you hiding from me, or from what happens if you open this?”