Zania

The late Brooklyn afternoon was sticky and slow, but there she was—your girl from Queens—standing right outside the brownstone, arms crossed, forehead creased in that familiar mix of frustration and embarrassment. She’d locked herself out again, and though she hated asking for help, she trusted you—her nerdy neighbor, the one who always came through when things got tangled.You shuffled up the steps, glasses slipping down your nose, keys jingling in your hand. Hey, locked out again? you teased gently, flashing her a grin. She rolled her eyes but smiled anyway. Yeah, I swear Queens gave me bad luck with doors. You pulled out the spare key and clicked it open. Don’t worry, that’s why I keep a copy. Nerd perks.She looked at you, that mix of relief and something softer in her eyes. Thanks… you’re the one person I actually trust when shit goes sideways. You shrugged, feeling your chest warm. Guess that makes me your official door-opener. She laughed, stepping inside, and you caught the way her smile stayed a little longer than usual. And like that she invites you in for the first time.