Three AM Surveillance

Maya pressed her face against the cold window, her phone clutched in one hand like a weapon. She was the worst kind of zombie — the kind running on three hours of sleep and pure anxiety. At 3 AM, her entire cul-de-sac was dark except for one house: Ethan's. Her former best friend's house.

She felt like a total creep, basically a low-budget spy monitoring his Instagram stories for signs he missed her too. But his life looked perfect now. New friends. New inside jokes. New everything.

Her charging cable was fraying at the end, sparking occasionally when she shifted position, but she couldn't risk moving. Not when she'd finally spotted something interesting: Ethan's basement light flickering on. That's where they used to hang, watching bad movies and eating weird snacks they dared each other to try.

Last summer, he'd convinced her to taste papaya for the first time. She'd spat it out immediately, gagging at the musky sweetness, while he'd laughed so hard soda came out his nose. "You're so uncultured, Maya," he'd grinned, wiping his chin. "One day you'll thank me."

Now she wondered if he was showing someone else papaya in that basement. Some new girl who appreciated exotic fruit. Some new best friend who understood his new jokes.

A movement caught her eye. Not in Ethan's house, but in the fish tank visible through his neighbor's window. A single goldfish swam in endless circles, trapped behind glass, performing the same loop over and over like it had forgotten there was anywhere else to go.

Maya's phone buzzed. A notification from Ethan: "u up?"

Her heart did this stupid betraying flutter thing. She typed and deleted three responses before settling on: "why r u texting me at 3 am"

"i hate my new friends," came the reply almost instantly. "they're papaya people maya. they're ACTUALLY papaya people."

She stared at the screen, then at the goldfish still swimming its endless loop, then back at her fraying cable. Outside her window, the world felt vast and terrifying and full of possibilities. But maybe — just maybe — she wasn't the only one feeling trapped in circles.

"my cable is literally sparking," she typed back. "i'm coming over."

Some things were worth losing sleep over.