Zoe sat at the little bistro table in the corner of Melinda's apartment, the morning light slanting across her face. Her fingers toyed with the edge of her coffee cup, spinning it slowly. She looked small, almost swallowed by her oversized sweater.

Melinda was perched on the counter, legs crossed, scrolling idly through her phone until she realized Zoe hadn't spoken in several minutes. "You're quiet," she said softly. "What's going on in that head of yours?"

Zoe let out a shaky laugh. "Chloe ...