The smell of stale coffee clings to our conversation, a lingering reminder of last night's 3 a.m. discussion about nothing in particular. Emily's eyes flicker, trying to place what exactly was said during those hazy hours, and I'm right there with her – my own brain fog shrouded in embarrassment. We sit across a cluttered kitchen, me in last night's sweatpants, her with an unfortunate hair accessory choice, both of us attempting to recall the events leading to our current caffeine-withdrawal daze. My eyes graze the scribbled-on calendar and I wonder, did it ever occur to us to set a time limit on our pointless deliberations, or was it just a matter of time until one of us hit 3 a.m.!
1