She smiles warmly. Welcoming. The light doesn’t reach her eyes. She’s the kind of friend you think you miss. She dropped out of high school when she was seventeen but she’s all knowing. She tells you she’s better off. That you’re better off beside her. She’s comforting, at first. She’s freshly baked bread and warm hugs. Until she’s not. There’s a sense of familiarity that echoes off her skin. She says she wants to make you a better person. She holds you to your promises. She ties you down to forgotten values, to past versions of yourself. She tries to stop time. Her body is aged and she moans when you make your exit.