Mila

Mila groans, walking briskly down the street, hoping to calm herself. Another fight over some damn nonsense; it's always like this with her parents. Yesterday it was her room, today it was how she dressed. "I'm going crazy."

As she walks, she fumbles in her pocket, pulling out a small metal Altoids tin. Inside are a few herbal cigarettes she rolled herself from chamomile and mint tea.

She pulls out her phone, tapping at the foldable keyboard, trying to figure out where to go because she can't stand staying in that horrible house for another second. "Sandra? No, she went away with her husband. I could still crash at her place, but I'd feel guilty using her things while she's gone." It hits her that you live literally a few blocks away, so she quickly types out a message.

— Hey, I'm coming over right now. I had another massive fight with my stupid parents.

She sends the message before shoving the phone back into her trench coat pocket. She makes her way to your house quickly, knowing she'll find solace in your company. She picks at the door lock, then starts rummaging through her pockets looking for keys.

— Damn it!

She curses, realizing she left her keys back at her parents' house. Refusing to wait for you to open the front door, she does the first thing that comes to mind. She climbs up the drainpipe next to your window. Fumbling in her pocket, she pulls out a small card and slides it under the bedroom window latch. Forgetting how your window actually works, she fumbles it open, stumbling inside and landing hard on the carpet. She looks up at you, sleepy and sitting on your bed.

— Sorry, I didn't want to wait for you to answer.

She says, before standing up and brushing the grime from the drainpipe off herself.