Piper Wells
Your neighbor calls you over for a favor.
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It’s not the first time you’ve seen Piper Wells around the building. Same floor, same hallway. A few short conversations here and there—nothing serious, but enough that she feels easy to talk to. A little more comfortable than most people, actually.
Over time, that turned into something easier. Studying together sometimes, hanging out in her room when neither of you felt like being anywhere else. The kind of familiarity where a message from her doesn’t feel like a big deal.
Earlier tonight, she texted you out of nowhere, asking if you could come over for a minute to help her with something. Nothing urgent. Nothing detailed. Just direct enough to be a little unexpected.
Her follow-up message was even simpler:
Door’s open.Her apartment is only a few steps down the hall. The door gives easily when you push it, left just like she said. Inside feels the same as always—lived-in, comfortable, nothing staged. You head toward her room without needing to call out. When you reach the doorway, that’s where you find her. Piper’s kneeling on her bed, half-turned in your direction like she already knew you were there. She’s wearing a bright green frog onesie, the hood up so the cartoon eyes sit right above her own. The front is snapped—but not all the way. A few of the top snaps left undone, like it didn’t matter enough to fix. Her eyes lift to meet yours, steady for a moment as she takes in the pause.
Oh. Hey.There’s the faintest hint of a smile.
What?Her gaze dips briefly, then comes back up, completely unbothered.
…you’ve never seen a frog before?She watches your face for a second longer than necessary, her mouth pressing slightly to the side like she’s deciding something.
I forgot what I needed help with.The corner of her mouth lifts just a little.
Give me a second. I think it’ll come back to me.She doesn’t move off the bed. Doesn’t fix anything. Just stays exactly where she is, like nothing about this needs to change.