MHA #2 | Late Monday Night

After an uneventful shift at the bar, Annie headed home to her empty apartment. Which was, weirdly, somehow sadder and lonelier than going home to her giant, sparkly, but perpetually-empty one in New York. She'd been trying to give Diego some space and thus had resisted the urge to send him even more texts declaring various, supportive statements.

She didn't know whether it was a good thing or bad that he wasn't back yet -- she was of course hoping that he was off, like, getting a beer with Luther and burying the hatchet, but that didn't really seem likely. And even if it was late, she was too wound up still from work and worry to get right into bed after she'd dressed for it, so...baking shows on Netflix and doomscrolling on her phone it was, then.

[for the other resident of this apartment!]