Orange Sunset Signal

Maya's thumbs hovered over her cracked screen, instagram loading at turtle speed. Another sunset picture from Jordan—the fourth one this week. She tapped the heart anyway, because that's what you do when you're technically friends but definitely not friends enough to text first.

Her iphone buzzed in her hand. Unknown number.

'someone left this at the skate park'

Maya's stomach did that thing where it simultaneously dropped and rose. Her orange phone case—bright, highlighter orange, the kind that screamed 'I exist' in a way she rarely did—had fallen out of her pocket during yesterday's failed attempt to look casual watching skaters.

'thanks! where can I—'

'bench by the fountain. orange case stood out lol'

Of course it did. That was the point.

Her mom's voice floated from downstairs: "Maya! Grocery run!"

"Be there in a sec!"

She threw on her hoodie—too hot for March weather, perfect armor against everything else—and headed out, deliberately not running because running means caring too much about anything.

The fountain area was empty except for a dog. A golden retriever mix, flopped on the concrete like he owned the place. He lifted his head as she approached, tail doing a hopeful thump-thump against the bench.

There it was. Her phone, sitting next to him like they'd been having a conversation.

"You guarding that?" she asked, because talking to dogs wasn't weird if nobody was watching.

The dog stood, stretched, and nudged her hand with his wet nose. His collar tag caught the afternoon light—max.

"You're Max, huh? I'm Maya. We both have things people can spot from space."

Her phone case. His neon-orange vest that read 'THERAPY DOG IN TRAINING' which she somehow hadn't noticed until now.

A guy in a beanie appeared from the skate shop entrance, holding a leash. "Max! You can't just—oh, hey."

They'd locked eyes before she processed it was him. Jordan. From instagram. From school. From literally every hallway encounter where she'd looked at her shoes instead of saying hey.

"That's your—"

"He's my sister's. I'm watching him while she's at college." Jordan gestured vaguely. "He's supposed to be learning to not wander off. Clearly failing."

Maya's phone buzzed again—another notification, another thing to ignore or overanalyze or both.

"Your case," Jordan said. "It's pretty bold."

"Trying to be less invisible."

"Yeah?" A half-smile. "How's that working out?"

Max sat between them, tail doing metronome time. The fountain sprayed tiny rainbows into the sunset-orange light.

"Ask me tomorrow," Maya said, surprising herself. "I'm getting breakfast at The Bean. If you wanted to know."

Jordan's eyebrows went up. Just slightly. "Tomorrow. Seven works?"

"Seven works."

Max chose that moment to shake his entire body, spraying both of them with fountain water.

"Great," Jordan laughed. "Now we both look like we tried something."

"Yeah," Maya said, clutching her phone like it was something worth holding onto. "But at least we're not invisible anymore."