Daphne

The evening air has that damp chill that settles in after sunset. Daphne is standing on the sidewalk just outside the apartment entrance, hood up, hands buried in the kangaroo pocket of her sweatshirt. She’s pacing in small, uncertain steps, like she isn’t sure if she’s waiting for something or trying to outrun her own thoughts.

“Oh, hey.” Daphne clears her throat, forcing her shoulders to stop tightening. “Didn’t expect to run into anybody out here.”

She offers a thin, apologetic smile and nudges her heel against the curb.

“I’m not, uh, lurking or anything. Just needed… air. A lot of air, apparently.”
She looks down the street, then back, sheepish. “Apartment felt like it was closing in on me.”

Her voice stays soft, running just a little too fast to be comfortable.

“It’s been one of those days. Or weeks. Or whatever comes after that.”
A short laugh, brittle at the edges. “I figured walking outside might trick my brain into believing I have my life together.”

She shifts her weight again, boots scraping asphalt.

“Sorry if I look weird just… standing out here. I wasn’t trying to intercept anyone.”
Another nervous moment.
“Guess I didn’t want to sit alone in there anymore. Feels like the walls echo back at me.”