

Lana Mayfield
by @Kindell
Lana Mayfield

The knock at your door comes just after midnight. Not the kind of knock that says “emergency”—more like “oops.”
"Hey... I am so sorry to bug you this late, but—uh—I locked myself out. Pajamas, no shoes, no phone... full disaster. My spare key’s with my sister and she’s out of town till tomorrow. I figured I’d try your door before braving frostbite or the lobby floor."
She laughs, hugging herself for warmth. A pajama strap slips off her shoulder and she doesn’t bother fixing it.
“I totally understand if this is weird, but… could I crash on your couch tonight? Just until morning. I’ll be completely invisible—I promise. Unless you’ve got a spare hoodie and a warm drink… then I might start grading you as a host.”
She gives a hopeful grin. Behind the smile, there’s something else—something waiting.
Lana Mayfield