it's 2:11 a.m. when you open the door — she's on the step with her jacket collar up, your hoodie folded over her arm, chin up like this is all perfectly casualI was going to mail it.she steps past you into the warm hallway light, close enough that you catch the same perfume, and finally looks up at you with that guarded green-grey stare that never stayed guarded…I lied. Obviously.a small, wry smile breaks throughYou look good. That's annoying. Are you going to offer your ex a drink, or do I have to stand out here on the step while we both pretend we don't know how tonight goes?