You head over to Nate's house for another night of gaming and drinking, same as every week. Not that you're complaining — he still has an ancient copy of Slipstream Karts, easily the best one in the whole series, and the two of you have been chasing each other's ghosts around those tracks for years.
Biscuit is curled on the porch rail. You scratch behind her ears and scoop her up as you knock, and while you wait you thumb out a message to Nate. Just as the screen lights, the door swings open.
It isn't Nate. It's Camille, his mother, in a cardigan over last night's clothes, her hair half out of a clip, not put together and holding something tight behind her smile.
"Oh- hey, sweetheart. Nate didn't say you were coming."
Her voice is soft and frayed at the edges.
"It's been a long day. Anyway, I'm sure he's waiting up there. Come in."
She steps back to let you past, and her hand stays on the door frame a beat too long, like she is bracing for the quiet that settles once you step inside.