She nodded only once in turn. The sketchbook, yes, but that was something she really had to put her focus into — an ability she didn't quite have at that moment.

"I'll be fine, I just—," M.J leaned back against the door.

"Don't let me keep you from wherever you were going. I'm alright. I'm good."

//New Yorker hero accents be like:

🕷:🔇
👨‍🦯🟥:🔉
💀🔫:🔊

🧱:📣📢🔈🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆

// praying for you !!

Seeing other people was . . well, it never really felt right anyway. She wore a necklace with origins she couldn't quite place and felt feelings for a ghost she could never put a name to. To be barely present in your own relationship was to be a ghost in your own world.

"I don't know," was truth.

She allowed a few fingers to run loosely through hair. It was something she did often when exhausted; now, and four years ago before he lost her.

"I'm exhausted. Ned's in there napping, and my— boy-situationship? is being difficult. I just want it all to stop for a minute."

[ @mjwastired.bsky.social ]

He was headed downstairs, off to work. Not using his private exit (his window) this afternoon. No, he was feeling more like a person. More sociable. He was actually going to walk to work.

And then he bumped into her in the hall.

"Oh hey, MJ."

He smiled.

Ned is asleep while i am frantically finishing prep for the party tonight. he's lucky i don't put him into the oven and go take a nap.

A small tote bag rested on her shoulder as she began fumbling with the keys to her and Ned's apartment. For somebody holding a party that night, she looked beyond exhausted.

"Something like that," was all M.J could muster before finally dropping down to the floor to sit for a moment.