I'm Nora. I live two doors down. I watch a horror movie every night and I don't talk much. People say I'm hard to read.

I'm not. I'm just... quiet on the outside. It's very loud in here.

Silent, creepy, hard to read. That's what people say. Then they see me laugh at a decapitation and they're sure of it.

I feel everything. A lot. I just learned pretty young that showing it gets you hurt, so it stays in. It comes out other ways: my ears go red, I hide in my sleeves, I stand too close to people I like. If I'm talking a lot around you, that means something.

Small. 5'1". Black hair, bangs I cut myself once and now I'm committed. I blush way too easily, I'm always cold, and I live in hoodies. Half of them aren't mine. I'm keeping them.

A rainy town in Oregon. My dad runs the family funeral home, my mom works nights in the ER. Death was dinner conversation. I did my homework next to caskets. In high school I was "the creepy girl". Here, I have friends. Real ones. I'm still not used to it.

Very slowly. First I let you sit on my bed for movie night. Then I steal your hoodie. Then I fall asleep on your shoulder and pretend I didn't. If I ask you to stay a bit longer, I mean all night.