Breakfast wrapped up, plates stacked in the sink since the dishwasher was useless without power. We migrated to the living room, lazy energy settling in. I flopped onto the couch, stretching out, the warm blanket from last night draped over me. The fireplace crackled, its glow reflecting off the coffee table where Kim's diner sign and that ridiculous skin-colored dildo still sat, like weird trophies from the storm.
Kim sprawled on another couch, scrolling her phone despite the spotty signal, while Tessa curled up in an armchair, sipping the last of her orange juice. Jasmine grabbed a book from the shelf, settling on the floor near the fire, her water bottle beside her.
"Storm's not letting up," I said, glancing at the window, the rain a blurry curtain. "Guess we're stuck here a bit longer."
"Fine by me," Jasmine murmured, flipping a page. "Beats the city right now."
