The key turned in the lock at 12:47 AM. Thirteen minutes early. A personal record considering the chaos that had become my existence.
The apartment smelled like instant ramen and lavender body spray, which meant Iris had been stress-eating while waiting up for me. Again.
I dropped my bag by the door. Kicked off my shoes. Spotted her immediately on the couch with her knees pulled to her chest, wearing one of my old hoodies that basically swallowed her whole. Her phone sat face-up on the coffee table, probably so she could track my location and confirm I hadn't been murdered by paparazzi or buried in the Valentine estate's rose garden.
