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A mugof coffee in each hand, Maggie kicked the door across the hall from her, and leaned her back against the jamb and waited. A thump, a grumble, and the sound of rustling from inside. She didn’t bother to knock a second time. And he didn’t bother to shout that he was on his way.

This was their pattern.

The door opened, and before the groggy man even finished wiping the sleep from his eyes, he was reaching for a mug, and she was already holding it out to him. “Morning, Harry.”

A grunt was all she got in response. He ran his hand over his dirty blond hair, ruffling it. The man needed a haircut. He walked into the room, still pulling his simple white t-shirt the rest of the way down his chest. He slumped onto his cluttered sofa, tossing a few articles of clothing to the side.

She smiled. Harry lived in the studio across from hers, and he always made her want to clean. He lived like a slob and only picked up when he was having a home visit. She sat down on the other side of the sofa from him and sipped her coffee. “Rough night at work?”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “Bastard boss of mine works me to the bone.”

Harry was also on state support, which was why he lived in the junky apartment across from her. Hell, they even saw the same therapist. He suffered from a “personality and impulse control disorder,” but didn’t go into much detail after that. He said he had trouble interacting with people and didn’t really have any interest in…well, doing anything. Ever.

But it meant he could hold down a job, even if she usually had to wake him up from a nap and kick him out the door so he wouldn’t be late. He worked the night shift as security for a warehouse in the Seaport District, which he hated. But it was work.

“I wish I had a job.” She pulled her knees up to her chest, making herself as small as possible.

“Not like this one, you don’t.” Harry leaned back and took a long gulp from the coffee. She couldn’t imagine he didn’t burn the roof of his mouth doing that.

“You could quit.”

“But then the money would stop coming in. Can’t. You know I can’t.” Harry rubbed his hand over his hair again, scratching at his scalp. He was cute. She bet he cleaned up nice. Now and then she saw him spiffed up for a meeting or something, and she had to admit she wouldn’t kick him out of bed. Over the past year and a half of living in the halfway house, they had become friends. Harry had been living there for a couple of years, and when he learned she had nobody else, took her under his wing.

“I know.” She sipped her coffee, much slower than he drank his. She had no desire to scald herself. “I’m just jealous. I get so bored.”

“You could sell your drawings on the Common. Set up a little stand. Make some dollars.” Harry smiled then said sleepily through a yawn, “Somebody’ll buy your shit.”

She smacked him in the arm.

He laughed, grinning at her, and then scooted farther down the sofa, plopping his legs on his cluttered coffee table. At least there wasn’t any actual garbage laying around. That was where she’d draw the line. Clutter was one thing. She had seen—or rather, smelled—some of the other apartments where people lived.

Ew.

“How was your meeting yesterday with the Doc?” Harry finished his coffee and set down the empty mug. He always inhaled his food, no matter what she did to try to get him to slow down.

“Fine, I guess.”

“You guess?”

She shrugged. “It’s fine. He asks me about what I can remember. I tell him as much as I can, he pats me on the head, and I go about my day.”

“That sounds about right. Do you think it’s working?”

She shrugged again. “I don’t remember anything that makes sense. Just a lot of disjointed crap I must have seen in movies or dreamed up.”

He rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. “At least the pills are good.”

She huffed a single laugh. She hated taking them. But if she didn’t, she couldn’t sleep. It was the only way to keep the memories—the hallucinations—at bay.

He broke into her thoughts. “What’re your plans today?”

“Go for a walk downtown with my sketchbook looking for things I recognize. Like I do every day it doesn’t rain.” She glared down into her coffee. “I need a real life.”

Harry scratched his stomach. “Could be like me. Just sleep all day and work all night.”

“Do you wanna go out tonight before your shift? Go get dinner or something?” When he grinned, she rolled her eyes. “Not like that, asshole. I mean just to go out. To be near people. Normal people. I have enough cash saved up. I want a burger.”