The Riddle at 3:47 AM

Maya's been running the same loop around her neighborhood for forty-five minutes, her AirPods blasting that breakup playlist she swears she deleted three times ago. It's 3:47 AM, because that's what happens when your crush posts a photo with someone else at exactly 11:59 PM and you suddenly need to outrun your feelings.

She rounds the corner by Mrs. Chen's house—that's where the goldfish lives in the pond, the one Maya secretly named Gerald sophomore year when she was still talking to herself regularly instead of just internally—and there it is. A sphinx. An actual, life-sized stone sphinx, sitting on Mrs. Chen's perfectly manicured lawn like it's always been there, like ancient Egyptian mythology naturally belongs between the petunias and the plastic flamingo.

Maya stops running. Her breathing hitches. This is either a hallucination from sleep deprivation or the most random vandalism in suburban history.

The sphinx has glowing LED eyes. Of course it does.

"I have a riddle," it says in a voice that sounds suspiciously like her history teacher, Mr. Harrison.

Maya's so tired she doesn't even question it anymore. "Hit me."

"What disappears the moment you say its name?"

She stares at it. "Silence."

"Correct." The sphinx nods, which is mildly terrifying. "Your prize: one truth."

"Truth about what?"

"About Liam's photo."

And okay, Maya's full attention is captivated now. She wipes sweat from her forehead. "Okay."

"His cousin. Visiting from Canada. They literally share a last name. She's his cousin, Maya. She's twenty-three and has a girlfriend."

The sphinx's eyes dim. Maya stands there for exactly seven seconds processing this, then starts running again, but lighter this time, faster, like she could actually outrun the sunrise.

She's going to text him at 4 AM. It's going to be awkward. But for now, she's just running, and somehow that's enough.