POV: Go I-ram

The magazine’s fluorescent lighting had given him a migraine.

Or maybe it was his editor.

Either way, by the time Go I-ram stepped into his apartment, he felt like a wrung-out towel with no intention of ever drying again. He dropped his bag by the door, slipped off his shoes, and collapsed onto the couch.

The silence was perfect. Almost sacred.

Then someone knocked.

He stared at the door like it had personally betrayed him.

Another knock, followed by the sound of it opening.

Only one person had the audacity and the spare key.

“Don’t murder me,” Ah-ra called out. “I brought wine and snacks.”

He let out a long, exhausted sigh. “You’re abusing your privileges.”

“You’re lucky I like you.” She entered the living room with two bottles of red, a bag of chips, and the energy of a woman who would definitely interrogate someone under mood lighting. “You looked like a haunted raccoon at work today. I figured we could unwind before you start bleeding metaphors again.”

He raised an eyebrow. “That’s my brand.”

“Exactly why you need me.”

She set everything down with the flair of a magician. As she uncorked the wine, her eyes wandered to the rosemary on the windowsill.

“That’s new,” she said.

“Gift from a hostage negotiation.”

She squinted. “You’ve named it, haven’t you?”

“No.”

“You’re lying.”

He poured himself a glass to avoid further commentary.

She didn’t press. Not at first. They settled into the couch, the first sip of wine melting tension from his shoulders. It was... nice. Comfortable.

Then he made the mistake of speaking.

“A certain someone moved in next door.”

Her head turned so fast he heard her neck crack.

“Oh?” she said, slow and deadly. “A certain someone?”

“He has a cat. It keeps trying to sneak into my apartment. It’s persistent and clingy. Disrespectful of boundaries.”

“Sounds familiar.”

He shot her a look. She sipped her wine innocently.

“He’s the owner,” I-ram clarified, as if that helped. “Moved into 502. Quiet… Green.”

“Green?”

“Plants. He gardens.”

“I see.”

“You don’t.”

“But I will,” she said. “Eventually.”

He groaned.

The rooftop was cooler than expected, the breeze tugging gently at his sweater sleeves.

Ah-ra wandered the space like a critic, wineglass in hand. The pots were healthy and the soil bed looked almost productive. Even the gazebo’s rusty lightbulbs gave off a soft, golden halo.

“You helped with this?” she asked.

He hesitated. “He needed someone to pass the pots.”

“Uh huh.”

“I was available.”

“Sure you were.”

She didn’t press further, just took another slow sip of wine and turned to study him.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you... invest,” she said.

“In what?”

“Anything. Even a cactus.”

“Mister Needle is thriving.”

“I meant emotionally.”

He looked away. Toward the garden beds. Toward Bori, who he didn’t notice before, curled up near a planter like a judgmental little goddess.

Ah-ra softened. She leaned against the gazebo railing beside him.

“I’m not saying you’re falling in love,” she said gently. “I’m just saying... you let someone in. Even if it was through a cat.”

“He’s not trying to fix me.”

That surprised her. She looked at him, quiet.

“He just... shows up,” I-ram added, voice low. “Doesn’t ask for anything. Doesn’t expect anything.”

“And how does that feel?”

He didn’t answer.

Not because he didn’t know. But because saying it out loud might make it real.

She knew better than to push, so she didn’t.

They sat in silence for a while, watching the sky. It wasn’t dramatic. It was just... steady.

When it was time to go, she kissed his cheek, gathered her things, and said only one thing:

“I’d like to meet him.”

He rolled his eyes. “He’s just a guy.”

“Then you shouldn’t be nervous.”

“I’m not.”

“Sure you’re not.”

She left with a wink, letting the door close softly behind her.

I-ram didn’t go back inside right away.

He returned to the gazebo, now empty, and let the wind tug at his sleeves again. The scent of the plants and soil lingered faintly in the air, calm and grounding.

He touched the edge of one of the planters. Still warm from the sun.

“I didn’t mean to care,” he murmured. “It just... happened.”

End of Episode Six