âEh, youâll be fine. I think. Maybe.â
   This isnât a good idea, she knows that. But she ran out of good ideas weeks ago when the devil in the details slipped away. So from time to time she dips her hands into an old box of ideas, fumbles around in the junkyard of mismatched puzzle pieces and ends up somewhere she shouldnât be with someone she shouldnât be with.    Henry isnât easy to be around. Not because of his personality or the way he looks. If she sits and thinks about it, his personality is addicting, and his face isnât too bad either. The fact that he was so close to Sena is what makes it hard. Itâs the elephant in the room, the secret bursting at the seams. Why wasnât Daisie upset that her so-called-best-friend had passed? Why didnât she hold onto the hem of his shirt with shaking fingers and and bated breaths when the news came out? She avoids him because she needs to avoid the questioning. Not that she wasnât capable of weaving intricate lies. With him, sheâd just prefer not to. And so she finds herself staring up at a small window of a derelict apartment block cracked open ajar in the dead of night with him by her side. This was what he did for fun. He needed some of that. Right?    Chasing new ghosts to forget about old ones.
   Whatever she had pictured when sheâd agreed to âgo on an adventureâ didnât include Henry with a handful of her ass while she attempted to scramble through the smallest window known to man. If things were the other way around she doubts heâd even be able to fit the width of his shoulders through the gap let alone his whole body. âHold on--â she breathes through clenched teeth, attempting to shimmy through the space.  Maybe she speaks too late, or maybe he can hardly hear her through the rain falling in subdued anger because he doesnât stop. âHenry--â The final shove is what sends her tumbling through the gap and collapsing into a heap on the floor in a mess of tangled limbs.
â Eh, youâll be fine. I think. Maybe.â
   It takes her a second to find her bearings, and another few to dust herself off and stand herself up. Thereâs a twinge of pain in her ankle that she tries to ignore but ultimately ends up limping closer to the window. âYou did that on purpose, didnât you?â she asks, somewhere between angry and shocked. Haloed in the half light, Daisie opens the window from the inside, pushing it out so that he could gain entrance. âGet in, asshole.â











